


Road to Redemption

by BlueEyesBlueSkies



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Kidnapping, Minor Violence, Once we get rolling goes from Action into more of a RomCom, Romance, but still some action, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-03-02 18:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 79,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13324350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyesBlueSkies/pseuds/BlueEyesBlueSkies
Summary: A kidnapped Darcy Lewis. Winter Soldier James Buchanan Barnes. And a whole host of supporting characters as one develops her own strength and the other finds his freedom.This story is complete and will be updated on Tuesdays, with some chapters more frequent as I find the time to edit.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story originally started out as Rescue Me, which a few of you may have read once upon a time. I’d abandoned it when I lost the muse, and eventually pulled the fic down unfinished. After reading more than a few amazing Darcy Lewis/James Buchanan Barnes fics over the past month, I decided to give this storyline another go, with a new heroine and a new twist.
> 
> This is my own little work of fiction. All errors belong to me; all characters belong to Marvel. The story is not canon compliant, it just is what it is

Darcy pulled against the cold steel wrapped around her wrists and ankles, using every single mental telekinesis trick she knew (which were none), but the fuckers just wouldn’t budge. She’d tried twisting, she’d tried pulling, she’d tried cussing, hell she’d even tried praying, but the damn things were so tight she’d started to bruise. 

She sighed heavily, sinking back into her cozy metal chair; it was no use. They were tight as hell, and they weren’t going to spontaneously release, no matter how many positive mental vibes she sent their way. 

Her mind wandered as she started to count the cement blocks of her cell. How in the hell was she going to get out of this? They rotated guards frequently, and she was never left alone for more than an hour at a time. Not that that was really what was holding her back here, obviously. It isn’t like she had some super ninja assassin skills waiting on standby here.

She hadn’t eaten in two days, and even then it was just a Poptart on her way into the lab.

Okay, fine. _Two_ Poptarts.

Actually, she may have had a muffin or two before she’d stuck her earbuds in and hightailed it to the subway that morning. 

_Whatever_ , the point was, she was clearly _starving_ and hadn’t eaten in _two days_ so now really wasn’t the time to be worrying about the New Year Cleanse she’d agreed to try out with Jane.

Speaking of Jane, it was about time for the cavalry to come to her rescue, wasn’t it? Darcy swiped her tongue over her horrendously chapped lips, attempting to listen for the nonexistent sound of Thor barreling through the corridors to rescue his lady love’s dearest friend. God, her lips were DISGUSTING, with a capital fucking D. She got one glass of water once a day, and the last one she’d used to launch spit into the face of her interrogator.

She snorted, shaking her head. That hadn’t gone over very well, judging by the gash on her right cheek. She smiled smugly to herself and shrugged, little moments of rebellion giving her the strength to ignore the fact that she was kidnapped and in a little cell and no Thor was currently striding down the corridor. 

Why in the fuck was she kidnapped, anyway? The little man with the, quite obvious, sinus issues had told her they were Hydra, and apparently, they wanted information about her sister Pepper and her stupid boyfriend, Tony Stark. 

It was a little ironic then, that Darcy did not have a sister named Pepper, did not even know anyone named Pepper unless you counted the BFF to her salt shaker, and she most certainly had never met Pepper’s annoying little fuck of a boyfriend, Tony Stark. 

Tony Stark, the “Iron Man”. She rolled her eyes as she thought back to the few glimpses she’d caught of him on the television screen. Iron Man. What a stupid fucking nickname. 

I mean sure, it was cool as fuck that he thought so highly of Janey-poo’s work that he had very nearly run them into the ground and was continually trying to buy them out and lure them over to the dark side, i.e. Stark Tower, i.e. Stark Industries.

But she was no Jane. She, Darcy Lewis, was basically put on this earth to make sure Jane stayed alive as she made one scientific breakthrough after another. 

Darcy was the Poptart Supplier, the Coffee Goddess, the Data Analyst if she was feeling really fancy. 

Pepper’s sister, she was not. 

She wasn’t special, she had no super powers, no power at all really, and yet here she was restrained like she was Captain Fucking America while Russians who called themselves Hydra berated her every hour, on the hour. 

The first day she’d tried to pass the time by catching catnaps in between interrogations. Until, that is, when the memories of her recent torture started to creep into her fucking dreams, at which point she quickly started to fight like hell to stay awake as often as possible, for as long as possible. 

She sighed as the minutes ticked by in her mind. Approximately…five to go until the next scream-sesh? She sighed, shifting in her seat and adjusting her legs. Well, adjusting was a generous word, considering she was manacled to a chair. It was all a bit kinky, really, if you thought about it.

She exhaled a deep breath as she started to clear her mind. She needed to prepare before they entered and the pain began once again.

She exhaled a long sigh as the door creaked open suddenly. Two minutes early? _Shit_. Here we go again…

~*~

He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t broken already. Thinking to throw her off, they’d sent the next agent in a few minutes early, and planned to leave him in there a few minutes late. The damn girl didn’t move a muscle as the Hydra agent stormed in and started wailing on her with the whip. And when he screamed in her face, asking where they could find the Avengers?

She’d cracked a motherfucking smile. 

Something stirred deep in his gut, a feeling like something from long ago was coming back to life. While he tried to quiet the unsettling feeling washing over him, a hand clamping down on his shoulder pulled him back to the girl before him.

“It is time, Soldier. We need the information. You must be the one to break her.” The voice of his handler floated softly into his ear while the plates in his arm began to whir and shift in anticipation. 

She would talk for him. She had to. Or she would die.

~*~

Darcy smirked internally at the retreating back of the agent furiously leaving her cell. Even when he slammed the door with all he had, she didn’t flinch. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

You see, miracle of all miracles, Darcy had yet to actually open her mouth, other than the spitting incident, since the torture began. Jane would be fucking _shocked_ that she had stayed silent for two whole days, when her previous record had probably been about twenty seconds. 

Really though, what was the damn point? She didn’t know anything anyway. I mean, the location of the Avengers wasn’t exactly some state secret. They were holed up with the asshat of the century, little Iron Man Stark, probably in Stark Tower. 

Besides, even if she did have something to say, it’s not like they’d keep her around once she’d said it, so it was useless really. Might as well play dumb and keep silent. Wait for Thor. Thor was coming, right? He wouldn’t say much, but she was pretty damn sure he was a member of Tony’s Superhero Crew. 

So, yeah. She’d shut her fucking mouth, hadn’t said a damn peep, didn’t bother to say that she was most certainly not Pepper’s sister and she absolutely was expendable. She swallowed thickly, pondering whether maybe she shouldn’t have spit out the entire cup of water from earlier. I mean, surely just a small stream would have made the point?

A splinter of fear slipped in to knot her stomach as the door flew open once again a split-second later. Exactly (approximately, who the hell was she kidding here she wasn’t exactly a ninja assassin woman like her alter-ego was pretending) fifty minutes early. _What in the fucking hell?_

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

She recognized him from the news. 

James Buchanan Barnes; The Winter Soldier.

And hooolyyy shitballs. The history textbooks didn’t do this stud justice. James Buchanan Barnes man was hot as _fuck_.

She sighed, dropping her shoulders. Well, she’d given it a good run. 

Darcy tried to pick her jaw back up from the floor to hide her surprise as he strode in and quietly shut the door, before turning to lean his back against it and survey her with cold eyes. She couldn’t let him see he had affected her. As soon as he knew she was afraid she was pretty sure she was as good as dead, and then all Thor’s hammer swinging would be for naught. 

Though he’d probably, _avenge_ , her death, right? I mean, isn’t that what the, _Avengers_ , were good for? 

Darcy tamped down a wildly inappropriate snicker as she leaned back in her seat as casually as she could, cocking her head to look at him. She pretty much openly leered at this beautiful specimen of a super solider, letting her eyes slide down from the dark hair gracing his forehead, past a chest and abdomen as sculpted as Adonis from what she could see under his tight t-shirt, all the way down to the toes of his black leather boots. As her eyes slowly moved back up him, she brazenly stared at his crotch before blinking her eyes back up to his and unconsciously running the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip.

He was fucking _gorgeous_. If they hadn’t deprived her of water Darcy was pretty sure she’d be drooling.

She openly smirked when she saw the anger flare in his eyes before he carefully schooled his face back into a mask and exhaled sharply through his nose. She just couldn’t help herself. Even though she was terrified and she was pretty sure she was going to vomit all over herself in a few minutes if she wasn’t careful, she couldn’t help but appreciate the raw magnitude of power radiating out from the man before her. 

Plus, he was literally hot as all fucking _hell_.

She shut her eyes and sighed, intentionally relaxing all of her facial muscles until she was calm and relaxed. She kept her eyes shut while the booted feet came up to rest in front of her, and forcibly kept her breathing even while she felt heat radiate into the entire front of her body as he leaned down over her, closing the distance until she could feel his breath hit her face.

“Mmm,” she heard him hum in front of her. She could feel his eyes carefully studying her while she tried to keep her face open and relaxed. She shivered, but it sure as shit wasn’t from fear as much as it was from the deliciously deep tone of that little hum, trickling over her spine.

Okay, fine. There was a teeny tiny bit of fear, too.

The whisper of wind across her cheek was all the warning she had before his metal hand wrapped tightly around her neck, squeezing hard enough to bruise and cut off her air supply. Her eyes popped open, and she fought to control the stark fear she was sure he saw running through them while she tried not to gasp for air as he flexed his metal-plated fingers over her windpipe.

Oh my god, she was going to _die_ and Thor wasn’t going to _find_ her and no one would hear her _Avengers_ joke, and –

Her mind raced as she found herself staring into the eyes of the man who was seconds away from killing her. His fist was closing tighter and tighter around her neck, his cold eyes suddenly hot as they blazed into hers, and she found herself thinking the flecks of gray weaving with the blue were actually pretty damned beautiful. 

She forced her eyes to stay open and fought back the panic, desperately trying to hang on to any sense of calm, any sense of control, she had left. Thinking back to earlier when she’d managed to disarm him, she ignored the insistent squeezing of her lungs in her chest, and she pulled her (now very likely _blue_ ) chapped lips up into something she hoped resembled a smile.

She felt his grip on her neck falter as his eyes darkened while they roamed over her face and took in her smile, and she greedily inhaled a fresh breath of oxygen into her starved lungs through her flared nose. He snarled at her, lip curling while he ripped his hand away from her neck and leaned in close for just a second, before turning quickly on his booted heal to stride back towards the door. 

She watched his metal fist punch a dent the size of a bowling ball into the thick cell door before he furiously yanked it open and disappeared around the corner while it slammed shut. And still, all she could do, was smile.

It was probably a good thing after all they’d withheld the water. Otherwise she was pretty sure she would have peed her pants, too.

~*~

He stalked down the hallway, shoving any sniveling junior agents in his way into the goddamn walls while he marched back to the observation room. As he stepped heavily up to the television screen to watch once again, he felt fury blaze through him. The girl was still fucking smiling.

_No one_ smiled in the face of the Winter Soldier. No one blatantly sized him up the way she had when he’d first entered the room, and then had the audacity to feel anything other than fear. He was furious, livid, eyes blazing as he looked for something to take his anger out on. She’d _looked_ at him, really looked at him, more than anyone had probably since before he could remember. And she’d fucking _smiled_. 

Something whispered through him, something about her bedraggled brown curls, her fading cherry red lips, her big blue eyes. Something about a dame from his dreams, voices, the slide of skin on skin from long ago.

The voice of his handler drifted into the room from the doorway, jarring him out of whatever the fuck that was. “Perhaps, a different kind of torture?” He asked softly, though the Soldier knew it wasn’t a question. 

He tilted his head, watching back the tape of his little meeting with her on another screen. “What do you think will break the girl?” His handler questioned behind him. 

His eyes narrowed as he watched it back one last time. He analyzed, assessed, ran scenario after scenario, calculating her weaknesses, really seeing her like she apparently saw him. Maybe, just maybe… 

“Hope,” he said simply, crossing his arms as he turned back to watch the girl live on the screen. 

A chuckle floated behind him, and once again that _thing_ inside him clenched, fluttering just slightly, awakening something else within him that jarred against the coldness all around him. “You have two days, Soldier. Use them wisely.” 

With that, he found himself alone once again, watching as the girl raised her head to count the blocks on the wall off to the left, lips moving silently.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am seriously blown away by the welcoming I'm receiving to this fandom! Thank you to everyone who has read, left kudos, and commented so far!! As a show of thanks, here is Chapter 2!! :)

Forty-eight hours. He had forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours to crack her open and pry out every last bit of information they needed before disposing of her.

Forty-eight hours before he’d very likely be wiped clean and put back on ice.

Forty-eight hours of freedom left. For both of them.

It had never really bothered him before. The pain was there, but pain was all he really ever felt anymore, anyways. Pain, and anger. 

He used the first of his forty-eight hours to review every last bit of footage they had on the girl, up to their disastrous meeting previously.

He used the second to formulate a strategy based on _hope_. He didn’t even hardly know what the fuck that word meant anymore.

He used the third to force all the other agents in the bunker with him to give him a crash course in everything _they_ would do to inspire hope. Hope hadn’t exactly been primary in the training he’d received in the Red Room, after all.

Five hours down, and he was now fully prepared. Forty-three hours to go. Forty-three hours before they flipped the switch, he lost his mind and everything that went along with it, and the Soldier was fully back in control. Right now it was there, but he was here there, too, and it was all very confusing and too much for him to fully comprehend. He just knew he was _present_ , he was _aware_ , but once the clock ran down each and every one of those forty-eight hours that most definitely would no longer be the case.

Hell, he probably wouldn’t even remember what the fuck this mission was, just like a majority of the rest before this one.

He would be wiped. He would be reprogramed. The Soldier would get a reset and start again.

He rolled his shoulders as he stalked through the underground hallway towards her cell. Most days, he couldn’t really tell the difference between when the Soldier was in charge and when he was. For some reason, with that dame, something made him actually want to stick around, stay in the moment, think and maybe start to _feel_ something a little bit more than cold and anger. 

He fucking hated it.

He kicked the door open, rage curling his lips back into a snarl at the stupid fucking smile she shot at him. 

What in the _fuck_ was with this dame and her smiles?

He yanked the knife out of his back pocket and strode up to her, eyes dark and face hard, pushing the knife into her face. She fought hard to keep the smile on her face and the fear out of her eyes, he would give her that much. Not like it actually mattered, however. 

He could smell it on her. He had her attention this time. She was afraid.

He flicked his wrist casually, bringing the tip of the knife to graze against the soft skin of her neck, just enough pressure to scratch the skin without breaking it. Her chest quivered as she sucked in a breath, and he watched as she swallowed, the delicate muscles of her throat flexing under her skin. He brought his eyes lazily back up from the end of the knife where it pressed into her throat up to those beautiful baby blues, flecks of gold winking at him under the cold fluorescent lighting.

He tilted his head as he studied her, watching the way she forced the fear out of her eyes, the way she controlled her breathing, the way she carefully smoothed out every line in her face and held her body in as relaxed a pose as possible. 

His eyes widened with a start. Well, all be fucking _damned_. He was actually… Intrigued by her. Interested. Curious beyond the cursory amount required to extract information. 

Also, he was pretty sure ‘inspiring fear’ was a bit counterproductive to his new ‘inspire hope’ philosophy.

The muscle in his jaw ticked just a bit as he shifted through the strategies he’d spent hours three through five cultivating.

Maybe that’s how he could break her. If he was intrigued, maybe she was, too? Combine that with a little hope, and before you know it she’d be like honey in his hands.

Something flickered, a feeling, almost but not quite a memory, of dames dropping at his feet with no more effort than a smile.

~*~

Darcy had the distinct impression that this must be what the animals in the zoo felt like when the people watch them in their cages, and she got a little misty at the fact that she was fucking sorry for tapping on the glass housing of the snakes. She felt cornered, surrounded by the overwhelming presence of the man crouched before her, pressing a knife into her throat. He was looking at her the way she imagined most predators watched their prey, based on her extensive viewings of Shark Week every year. 

This little (large) Sharky was watching her with calculated intent, awareness, and a little bit of interest. She fought back the shiver threatening to roll over her spine at the feel of the knife digging into her neck, and bile rose in her throat when he tilted his head to study her further. 

She could practically smell the death that hung off his broad shoulders, rolling off in waves. Well, that, and something a little woodsy and earthy that could be his soap or maybe even just _him_. 

With a jolt she realized that despite the intensity of both of their interactions thus far, they had yet to actually even speak to each other. He hadn’t peppered her with questions or demanded any answers. He had, however, stared at and studied her, nearly choked the life out of her, and now pressed a knife to her throat.

Maybe this was it then. Maybe they’d grown bored of asking her questions. Maybe he was sent here to kill her. 

Maybe Jane hadn’t even noticed she was gone yet, and she hadn’t stalled long enough, or maybe Thor couldn’t find Mew-Mew, or maybe Tony told him he wasn’t allowed to come, or maybe ¬– 

“Ready to go?” He rumbled, voice barely above a whisper, low and almost soothing in its depth. 

Wait… _whaaa_? She felt the confusion creep into her eyes as she searched his face, tensing her shoulders with unease.

He licked his lips before pressing the knife a bit further into her neck, nicking the skin. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Are you ready to go?” He said it slowly this time, and she had the distinct impression that actually, she really _didn’t_ want to make him repeat himself, when usually that would be the first, second, third, fourth, and maybe even fifth thing she’d absolutely do.

She also thought he might have thought she was a little bit stupid.

Darcy bit her lip and narrowed her eyes before slowly (and carefully, because hello there, stupid knife still at her throat) nodding. 

“If you behave, you can walk out beside me. If you try anything, I’ll knock you out and keep you that way until we get there.”

She exhaled through her nose, trying to calm her racing heart. It was nearly beating out of her chest, and she was almost certain he could actually hear it. 

Darcy pursed her lips, weighing all of her many nonexistent options. Just to buy a little more time for Thor to find Mew-Mew. Just to irritate the fuck out of Sharky.

Acting as if she suddenly came to a decision when the God of Thunder failed to burst triumphantly through the door, Darcy nodded once with a sickly sweet smile. She’d behave.

For now.

Besides, where in the fuck were they going? And, more importantly, was there _food_?

He hummed as he took the knife away from her throat and reached down to pull the key to her chains out of his pocket. “Hold still,” he mumbled as he started to unlock first her legs and then her hands.

She _almost_ snarked about how she didn’t really have a choice now did she. She _almost_ licked the top of his head because that wouldn’t be weird and he probably tasted at least half as good as he smelled and also she wondered if maybe she had totally lost her fucking _mind_ because what in the actual _fuck_ – 

The feeling of his warm palm cradling her calf gently was both totally surprising and completely unsettling, and she literally, physically _jumped_ out of her ramblings. The heat from his hand burned straight through her jeans to warm her skin, and she had to fight back another shiver. She huffed in annoyance at herself. This time, she most definitely wasn’t shivering from fear.

Well, maybe there was still a teensy tiny bit of fear lingering around there somewhere, too.

Moving onto the other leg, he once again burned into her very _being_ while he cupped her calf and unlocked that ankle, gently stroking his thumb along the tear from where she’d been nicked during one of the earlier torture rounds. She watched him with guarded eyes while he lifted up her foot to take a look at the wound, reaching out to graze his finger over the rough stitches they’d put in, before he gently set her foot back on the floor. 

That same damn palm now came to rest on her right forearm while he unlocked her wrist, and she tried to snatch her hand back when the cool metal of his left hand gently took hold of her wrist and twisted it a bit to work the kinks out. He held on tighter, pulling on each of her fingers in turn until the joints popped at resettled.

She would not be surprised to learn she was already dead, and stared at him blankly with a mix of confusion and bewilderment. What in the fucking _hell_ was this shit?

When he unlocked her other wrist and did the same massaging motions, she couldn’t entirely stifle the moan of pleasure at the pop as her wrist shifted back into place. 

He chuckled, a sound so devilishly delicious it shot straight down her spine to pool in her fucking core, because of _course_ it would, because of _course_ she’d developed Stockholm Syndrome after two whole fucking _days_. 

He met her now-pretty-fucking-wary-and-confused gaze as he gently reached down to pull her to her feet. “I know a thing or two about the effects of being restrained,” he said in response to the unanswered question she was sure was being broadcast by her bewildered expression.

She snorted, pulling her hands out of his and gesturing (quite magnanimously) for him to lead the way. As she started to follow him, her legs gave out from under her, and the floor hurtled alarmingly quickly up towards her totally shocked face. As she put her arms out to break her fall she was suddenly swept up into the arms of the man in front of her, catching her as if she _hadn’t_ cheated on her New Year Cleanse and holding her bridal style close to his chest. She struggled to get down but he only held her tighter as he started to walk from the room and down the cold corridor. 

“Something you’d like to say?” He rumbled into her ear with amusement, carrying her like she weighed less than a feather as he made his way to the stairwell. 

A thousand things. Ten thousand things. Darcy currently had one million-thousand things she wanted to say to Sharky and couldn’t say a damn _word_ all at the same fucking time because her vow of silence was a sacred vow and it had served her well so far, if the fact that she was alive and the most beautiful man in the entire universe was carrying her like she was precious down the hallway was anything to go by.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad that Thor probably lost Mew-Mew.

There was probably no way Thor lost Mew-Mew.

Darcy huffed in annoyance. She was, like, the _least likely_ person to enjoy playing Damsel in Distress, and yet here she was, mute, immobile, and trying to decide if Sharky’s muscle-arm was actually any softer than his metal arm.

She had Stockholm Syndrome. She had to. Because she had, quite literally, renamed the Winter _fucking_ Soldier _Sharky_ in her internal monologue, and was a little more than turned on by Sharky as he paraded her out of the bunker and in the direction of several vehicles.

She most certainly was not pretending he was actually rescuing her, rather than relocating her, and taking her to their own secluded love nest to rest, recover, and have copious amounts of all the sex for the next ten years of her life. She was _not_.

All of a sudden he spun them around, and she was staring at the face of the nondescript concrete shelter that had been her home for the past two days. 

“Any last words before we blow this popsicle stand, cupcake?” 

His voice was so soft, and so delicious, that it totally jarred with the fact that he made jokes eerily reminiscent of her ninety-year-old grandfather. Which, actually, was not at all that surprising given that they may have been _buddies_ because Sharky is actually old and the _Winter Fucking Soldier_ and _oh my fucking God_.

However, the point remained. She hadn’t spoken a word since they’d captured her. She had no idea what the hell was going on. She was _woman_ , damnit, and not even a sweet voice and sweet muscles and beautiful eyes and the scruff on his jaw was going to _change_ that and she would be _damned_ if she was going to break her vow of silence now.

He chuckled once again, the vibrations rocking into her side and sending goose bumps across her arms as he turned back around and strode towards the vehicles. “Didn’t think so.” 

Ugh, that fucker. He was so damn smug about it, too. Like he just knew what she was doing, and for some reason was determined to tease her rather than get annoyed. How bizarre, and how unlike the behavior of all of her previous captors/torturers. 

You know, because she just has such a vast wealth of experience to draw from on that score.

She sighed, resigning herself to just settling in comfortably while he carried to the last car on the lot. Wait, they were really leaving? 

“Just for a few days.”

God damnit, could he read her mind? Sharky could smell her thoughts, that had to be it. It was part of the arm programming. He just had to be touching the target, and then-

“No, I’m just good at reading people.”

She bit her tongue and forced herself not to snap at him before crossing her arms and leaning her head against his shoulder. 

She was not pouting.

She was just pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes and refusing to let Sharky in on the rest of her very private thoughts.

She was also pouting.

“Your chariot, dollface,” he said with amusement as he set her down on her feet next to a black sports car of some kind. 

Amusement. Well, would you _looky_ there, Grandpa Sharky was amused at her expense. That was quite the fucking change from the whole choking and knife pointing and brooding super soldier thing.

The windows were tinted black, the accents were all black, and inside she saw black leather seats and detailing. 

How colorful.

He gestured in front of the open passenger door, and with as much dignity as she had left she slid into the passenger seat. 

She whipped her head around but as soon as she started to reach for the keys he was sliding in on the drivers side and batting her hand away gently with a tsk. “Now now, doll, you said you’d behave.”

“Actually, I haven’t said a damn thing you arrogant fucking asshole.” 

Shit. 

Shit, shit, mother _fucking_ shit. 

Why in the ever loving _fuck_ couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? She flushed crimson in the face of his wide-eyed smirk and angrily flopped over to stare out the window as he fired up the engine and raced off the gravel lot and onto some single-lane road.

She did not put her seatbelt on, because she was a rebel, and Darcy could live on the wild side because it didn’t matter whether she lived or died at this point.

The wildness lasted up and until the moment two seconds later when Sharky took a turn on two wheels. At which point, Darcy decided rebels wore seatbelts, too, and quickly fastened hers before falling asleep.

~*~

Well, this dame sure was feisty.

And pretty.

And had the body of a coke bottle with curves in all the right places.

And, apparently, even the tone of her voice conveyed all of his newly discovered favorite things about her. 

Her wit, her sex appeal, her saucy little attitude.

God damn, one more naughty word out of her and he might pop a fucking hard one right then and there.

He smirked to himself as he drove down the deserted highway towards the cabin he was taking her to. This assignment was shaping up to be the best one he’d ever had, not like he could really remember. Hell, while he was unlocking her from her chair he was half-hard just from grazing his fingertips over her soft skin. He slid his eyes over to watch her as she slept against the window. 

The dame really was fucking gorgeous. Dark brown curls, limp from the lack of shower; eyes as deep as the ocean; pert little nose with high pink cheeks. She was a knockout, and, from their brief interactions so far, full on bursting with _life_.

He found himself impressed with how she could keep calm under the torture she’d endured, never once breaking or giving an inch. She hadn’t flinched when they’d beat her, screamed at her, threw shit at her. She hadn’t flinched when he’d damn near choked her to death.

He smirked again, and chose to ignore the uncomfortable sensation twisting under his skin when he thought back on choking her. He’d cracked her just a bit. He’d annoyed her, irritated her, and gotten under her fair little skin. He could smell it the second her fear had shifted to arousal as he was stroking her leg, and damn him if he didn’t want to just kiss her right then and there.

Actually, he had wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that.

This mission was going to take a little more finesse than he was used to. Getting her into bed wasn’t the end game, though he was most definitely looking forward to it. God, how long since he’d had a dame outside the Red Room? 

He shook his head, chasing wisps of memories that just weren’t bubbling all the way up to the surface.

No, the point was getting her to fall for him too. Then she would spill all her dirty little secrets, and he could take her back and dump her with his handler for him to deal with.

That thought did not bother him. 

Not at all.

Forty-four more hours. He chuckled with amusement. 

He’d probably only need the next two before she was kneeling at his feet, and then he could put the other forty-two to good fucking use.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The odds of another chapter this week are slim, but I just couldn't hold this one for Tuesday. Yay for three chapters in one week!

Darcy meant what she said, even if she hadn’t meant to say it. Sharky was an arrogant fucking asshole. He drove like a bat out of hell, flying through the night towards their destination, all the while casually reclining in his bucket seat while reaching over to lazily trace his thumb on her knee. 

She had very nearly convinced herself that the prickles of sensation shooting up her leg were from hunger, and not from the feeling of those circles.

She watched the stars flicker in the night sky overhead while he drove, hating the butterflies his casual touch was causing to flutter in her stomach. God, he must think she was a complete idiot. 

What an _asshole_. He honestly thought she had no idea that this new seduction thing was just a tactic to get her to open-up and spill all of her nonexistent secrets. 

She smirked a little. She knew he wasn’t totally unaffected by her, either, and that it wasn’t all just an act on his part. She’d seen the way his pants bulged as he stroked her legs and her arms while un-cuffing her. He felt it too, no matter how he wanted to pretend like he was in control. 

That was his weakness. He had some antiquated notion that she would swoon at his feet and secrets would pour out of her heart with her undying love for him. Like she would just come undone in his arms and devote her soul. 

Geez, men from the forties sure had a lot to learn about modern women.

“We’re here, doll,” he rumbled as he turned down a gravel road and drove up to a little cabin. 

It was pitch black when she climbed out of the car and followed him up the wooden steps, waiting as he unlocked the door. She couldn’t see a thing and could barely make-out the woods surrounding the cabin on all sides. 

Escape could wait. No need to run from Sharky just to collapse from starvation in the middle of the fucking woods where a bear would eat her.

She followed him in as he swung the door wide and flipped on the only lamp in the room. 

It was a small hunting cabin, all wooden with just one main room and a small bathroom off to the right. It was literally the shit of Walking Dead dreams. She half expected one-eyed Carl and crossbow-wielding Daryl to pop out and take down Sharky to come to her rescue.

To the left was a utility kitchen complete with fridge and a small stove, and directly in front against the back corner of the wall was a full-sized bed. There was no TV or any electronics with hacking capabilities as far as she could see, a small fireplace on the wall next to the front door, and she realized with a sinking feeling that unless he did something really, really stupid it was going to be a challenge to escape through the only door. 

He absentmindedly tossed the car keys onto the counter and strode off towards the bathroom. “Make yourself comfortable, doll.”

She smirked. 

Why hello there, mister really, really stupid. Arrogant asshole, indeed. What a fucking tool. What a beautiful, strong, deadly fucking tool. 

She quickly scanned the room and could not believe her luck. There was even a fire poker she could potentially use to knock him out. This might just actually work. She was a fucking warrior woman. A ninja assassin badass. She’d read more than a few Walking Dead fanfics after all, and was totally a fucking expert at this shit. 

She could fucking _do_ this.

She totally didn’t have a shot in hell at successfully doing this.

He swept back into the room and kicked his boots off before stalking into the kitchen. “Hungry?” He called over his shoulder as he started to rummage through the fridge. 

“Hmm,” she hummed as she took a seat on the stool next to the kitchen counter. Hums didn’t break the vow of silence. Hums were totally acceptable.

He was now opening and slamming the few cabinets around the stove before grunting in frustration.

He ran his metal hand through his hair before looking over at her sheepishly. “Guess I should have thought this one through a little more and brought some food?” 

Just the opening Darcy Lewis, ninja assassin warrior goddess extraordinaire, needed.

Her traitorous heart gave a little flutter at the annoyingly adorable expression on his face as he gazed up at her under thick black lashes. She had the sudden urge to whine and stomp her foot. It wasn’t fair, he was just so damn _pretty_. 

Darcy faked a huff of annoyance before waving and shooing him out of the kitchen. She pointed at the fireplace and he turned and shot her a grin before starting to build the fire while she searched through the cabinets.

God _damn_. He was beautiful, and adorable, and surprisingly approachable when she wasn’t afraid he was about to murder her.

She pulled in a deep breath and nodded to herself for courage. Warrior Goddess Extraordinaire.

As she pulled a big can of baked beans out of the only cupboard to house anything other than cobwebs, her eyes widened and she couldn’t believe her luck. 

No. Fucking. Way.

There in the back of the little cupboard was a tiny pill bottle with one little tablet left, which she just so happened to recognize from the many times she’d literally drugged Jane to stop a four-day science binge and force her to rest. Sleeping pills. 

You just couldn’t make this shit up.

She was a fucking _boss_ at being Warrior Goddess Extraordinaire. It should be added to her new fucking title. She was going to have new business cards printed up _stat_ as soon as she ‘blew this popsicle stand’.

Her vow of silence was a total buzzkill and was depriving the world of so many witty comments it was a little sad.

She smiled to herself as she pulled out the bottle and tucked the pill into her pocket, glancing over to see he still had his back towards her as he worked on the fire. Warrior Goddess for the motherfucking _win_. Fuck Mew-Mew, she didn’t even need a special hammer to bring the pain.

Er, sleep. Same fucking thing.

She opened the can and dumped it into a little pot, lighting the burner on the stove to start to heat the beans. This cabin sure was mighty convenient what with the working gas and working electric. A god damned miracle. She rolled her eyes at the thought that Sharky actually thought she’d fall for this shit.

Opening the magically working fridge, she found two bottles of water and pulled them out, one for each. She slipped her hand into her pocket and started to crush the pill as best she could between her fingers, stirring the beans as they started to bubble. 

Now came the hard part. Slip the pill into his drink, or his bowl? What would a ninja assassin warrior goddess do? The drink would probably digest faster, but she ran the risk that he would taste it, or worse, switch their bottles. 

Falling into a coma might hinder her epic escape just a _tad_. 

She sighed, pulling out two bowls and dishing up the beans. Bowl it was.

She turned to face him while she looked for spoons, and as she dropped his in his bowl she sprinkled the handful of crushed sleeping pill from her pocket, stirring as she delivered him his bowl and bottle of water.

The grateful smile he sent her, so completely unguarded, as he accepted his bowl and dug in almost made her regret it. Almost.

Just a teensy tiny bit.

Good god she was so fucked.

She ate her beans slowly, watching him carefully over the end of his bowl and contemplating how long it would take to knock him out. She figured as a super soldier he probably had a faster metabolism, which would mean it would not only take affect quicker, but it would work through his system faster, too. She took a new vow that following the end of her vow of silence she would pat herself on the fucking back for her very scientific analysis of his state as a super solder. Why did she always doubt herself so much in the lab? She could totally rock this science thing’s socks off.

As he scooped the rest of the bowl into his mouth and walked to rinse it in the sink, she tried to calm her breathing. Only a matter of time.

She really might as well truly be a ninja assassin goddess warrior woman. Science for the fucking _win_.

She finished her beans and joined him at the sink, washing hers while he started to dry the dishes and put them back. She felt his warm hand slip over her back, and before she could blink he was whirling her around the room to dance in front of the fire. 

“What are you doing?” She squealed, all thoughts of her vow of silence momentarily forgotten.

She was sure the God of Vows would totally forgive the transgression, however, because what in the actual _fuck_ was going on? Maybe those weren’t actually sleeping pills?

The lazy smile he shot her sent a delicious shiver all the way down to curl her toes. Darcy’s heart started to flutter from the feel of his warm hand on her back, and she wrapped her fingers around the cool metal of his left hand as she tried to calm her nerves. The broad shoulder bunching and shifting under her other hand as he twirled her around certainly didn’t help.

She could do this, whatever this was. She just had to roll with the- er, not punches, dance moves. Just bide her time. Any minute now, he was going to faint and she was going to be free as a bird.

Any minute now.

So it was totally cool that she rested her check on his chest and swayed along with him, right there in the deserted cabin in the middle of the woods. It was totally normal that her cheeks were flushed pink and her breath was actually starting to come a little fast while her heartrate sped up. It was totally fine. She was acting, totally. Fucking damsel in distress thing, making the enemy more comfortable to let his guard down and all.

That’s all it was.

All of a sudden, an enormous yawn escaped him as his eyes started to glaze while he gazed down at her. She most definitely was not a little startled. She’d totally been waiting for this moment.

Totally.

“So sssleepy,” he slurred, voice low and full of gravel while he spun her towards the bed. 

She feigned a yawn and nodded, her heart pounding when he collapsed back on the bed and pulled her on top of him. “We sleep?” He asked softly as his eyes drifted shut.

God, his lips were just about begging for a kiss, weren’t they?

“Sure, Sharky. We’ll sleep,” she whispered softly, thinking that despite the whole killer aspect he had going on, he was actually pretty cute when he had his guard down.

His brow furrowed, and the frown he was giving her was most definitely a pout.   
“Sharky?” She could just barely hear him, and his eyes had drifted shut.

“Say what now?” he whispered, counting the seconds, and not enjoying the shifting muscles beneath her body as he settled more comfortably on the bed. 

Not enjoying that at _all_.

There was a long pause before he answered, mumbling so quietly she was sure he was right on the edge of losing all consciousness.

“Not m’name, doll.”

She didn’t have to fake the little smile she sent him as his arms fell away from her and he started to snore. “Right you are, buddy, sorry for the mistake,” she giggled softly, her whole body lifting with his next long snore.

“Goodnight, James Buchanan Barnes,” she whispered, a little bit giddy, a whole lot of anxious, and more than a tiny bit totally confused. 

Fuck vows of silence. That shit was over-fucking-rated.

She ignored the butterflies the dreamy smile on his face sent coursing through her, and gently hopped up and raced for the keys on the counter, turning at the door to spare one last glance for the man who made her more confused than she’d ever been in her entire life. As she blew him a kiss, she whisked open the door and shut it softly before racing towards the car, starting the engine and speeding back down the lane and into the night.

Warrior goddess ninja assassin for the fucking _win_.

Why did escape feel a little hollow?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you to everyone reading, following, and commenting on this story!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter four!! I've already started editing Chapter 5, so I'm still planning to post another tomorrow :)

Bucky cursed for the fifth time in as many minutes as he followed the erratic driving of the dame in front of him. He hadn’t meant for it to get this far, but on par with what usually happened whenever she was around, shit had hit the fan and his plan had gone to hell.

She’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker, slipping the pill that would do no more than make him barely drowsy for about ten minutes, right into his beans. Trying to keep her on her toes, he’d thought to swing her into a dance.

Turns out, he’d swung _himself_ off his feet right along with her, and before he knew it way too much time had passed and they were slowly swaying in front of a flickering fire in an empty cabin. 

She was getting too close, starting to crawl up under his skin, so he’d broken the moment and thought to flop back on the bed and fall to ‘sleep’. He’d meant to let her make it off the step before scooping her up, tossing her over his shoulder, and locking her back in the cabin. 

She’d got the jump once again, and she’d only needed three little words to do it.

James Buchanan Barnes.

He had a name. 

He’d had contingencies, of course, which is why he was now following her on his bike, lights cut off, watching as she just barely managed to swerve back onto the road at the last second.

Flashes of a life, maybe his, maybe someone else’s, kept popping up whenever he let his mind wander. A scrawny little punk offering him a corndog. A mother baking cherry pies. A father quick to anger. 

James Buchanan Barnes.

It became his mantra as he followed her through the mountains.

He had a name. A real one, beyond Soldier.

James Buchanan Barnes.

He didn’t want to forget it again.

~*~

Darcy was tired. Bone-fuckingly, mind-numbingly, tired. And while stopping seemed like just the thing that would get her re-captured, continuing on her little journey through the mountains of nowhere was going to end up with her driving off a cliff somewhere if she didn’t pull over and catch at least a cat nap. 

She drove with the window down, and it was about two hours into her journey when it occurred to her that although no taillights were behind her, there was the distinct hum of an engine cresting a turn about thirty seconds after she would.

Every single time.

That fucker really thought he could just follow her with the lights out and she wouldn’t pick up on it?

Well, Darcy Lewis wasn’t going to let him get the jump on her this time, no sir-ee bob. Sharky was just going to have to find another prey. 

She was a ninja assassin warrior goddess extraordinaire, and she was fucking _done_ with being the damsel in distress.

~*~

She was _yelling_. It was the only explanation, but it still boggled his mind.

Why would a woman on the run choose to scream out of the window and gesture wildly at the sky? What in the hell was she doing?

And what the fuck was a moo-moo?

~*~

She screamed for Thor, for Loki, for Heimdall, hell she screamed for fucking _Odin_ to pop down and scoop her up, for as long as she possibly could. Sharky was already following her anyways, so what did it hurt, calling for a little backup? It’s not like he wasn’t already on her trail.

After another mile of playing the ‘how long can I blink my eyes closed without falling asleep while driving’ game, with no otherworldly rescuers in sight, Darcy finally decided it was time to call it quits. Spotting a sharp turn up ahead, and began to develop a plan. She was going to take any opportunity she could, as soon as it presented itself, because she was running out of time and was pretty much a dead woman driving anyways. 

A few more minutes and one lucky bend in the road later had Darcy jumping into action mode, cutting the car lights and pulling off onto a winding gravel road just barely peaking out from the brush. She prayed to Thor Sharky would just continue on his merry way while she found another empty cabin where she could rest for a few hours before continuing on. After another five minutes down the path, which by now had turned into just plain dirt, she finally saw the outline of another little lodge in the distance, surrounded by a big open field.

Darcy cut the engine and stepped out of the car. She could hear a few birds but beyond that the night was silent. There were no lights on in the lodge, and she could see none on the road behind her in the distance. She also couldn’t hear Sharky’s engine anymore. Her badass ninja warrior woman senses told her this was a good sign. 

She slowly walked up to the lodge, footsteps heavier than she cared to admit from the overwhelming exhaustion setting in.

Darcy turned the knob, annoyingly finding it locked. As she started to search around for where someone may have hidden a key, she heard an unmistakably loud snap in the woods at a distance. 

Well, _fuck_.

Darcy froze, back rigid as her eyes peered out into the darkness, darting frantically as she listened harder than she ever had in her life, trying to determine what disrupted the quiet. It was just a bird, right?

Or maybe a bear?

Or maybe it was Thor!

Then again, Thor wasn’t exactly known for his silent, sneak-attack skills.

Another snap had her running in the opposite direction, leaping off the deck to sprint into the woods to the left while keeping the field to her right. She ran as hard as she could, cursing her lazy ass for the numerous spin classes she’d skipped out on and the thousands of poptarts she’d eaten, until suddenly a large cybernetic hand snaked out around her waist, gripping tight while a fleshy one clamped down over her mouth, silencing her scream.

Darcy struggled for a second before realizing the futility and deciding to conserve her energy. She sagged in his arms, defeated, and so fucking tired she was two seconds from dropping.

He had found her. 

He spun her around to face him, gripping her shoulders. His eyes glinted in the moonlight as he tilted his head, the hint of a smile playing across his features.

Well, at least he didn’t look overly angry with her.

Actually, he looked a little (if she could believe it) pleased.

“You drugged me,” he said without anger, a hint of amusement coloring his voice. He was impressed, she could tell.

Fuck vows of silence. She had too many witticisms the world needed to hear.

Darcy smirked wryly with a shrug. “Can you blame me?”

Darcy basically forgot how to breathe as his smile took hold and a grin spread while he shook his head. “Suppose not, doll. But we did dance together. That used to mean something, not so long ago.” 

His smile dipped suddenly into a severe frown, and he tilted his head to listen to something she apparently couldn’t pick up on, his open expression shuttering severely.

Fear shot down to coil in her belly, and she swallowed the lump that had leapt into her throat. She shook her head at him, trying to force it away and remain calm. “What is it?” She whispered. She tried to keep it out of her voice, tried to remain indifferent, but she knew he heard it. She was afraid.

She was also now apparently conspiring with the enemy, but you know. Enemy of my enemy is my friend, and all that jazz.

Actually, she didn’t have it quite right. She was conspiring with the wrong enemy, now that she really thought about it. She _should_ be conspiring with whatever Sharky was listening to, right? That would be the enemy of the Sharky, so, that’s really where she should place her fickle loyalties.

She was too fucking tired for philosophy. Philosophizing? 

He listened for a few more seconds before his mouth pressed into a hard line. “Tell me where Stark is.” His voice was flat, emotionless.

She stared at him, picturing the cement blocks from her cell not so long ago and attempting to count them, her mind wandering away.

He shook her hard, the motion jerking her head like a ragdoll as his fingers squeezed tight enough to bruise on her upper arms. “Tell me where Stark is,” he said harshly, a bit of panic tinging the edge of his words.

She whipped forward, the top of her head cracking into the bottom of his jaw hard enough she heard his teeth smack. “Why you little-“ his hand was suddenly locked around her throat, barely restrained from what thin level of control he held onto. 

She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything a noise pierced the darkness, the thudding of a deep rumble sending waves of air rushing past her, blowing her hair into his face. 

In an instant the hand was gone, and he was shoving her behind him roughly, one long metal finger pressed against her lips as he pointed towards the field with his right, his arm a heavy weight around her weary shoulders. Three black helicopters landed behind the lodge, heavily armed people in black suits climbing out to circle the lodge while several black cars with tinted windows pulled up the dirt road and more filed out.

It was a hell of a lot of hoopla for little ole Darcy Lewis.

She was pretty sure this was not an enemy she wanted to befriend.

She was so, so, totally and completely _fucked_. Not even her inner warrior ninja goddess woman was getting her out of this shitstorm.

A man she didn’t recognize and one of the ones who had interrogated her earlier climbed out of the back of the last car, walking slowly up the drive lit by the choppers, and observing the cabin. Others swarmed into the lodge, quickly clearing the building before coming back out to wait in the grass.

The one she didn’t recognize tilted his head and turned to survey the woods to the left and right. “Her tracker said she was here,” he said softly. “Search the woods.” His voice was cold, and another wave of fear swept through her.

Suddenly, Darcy felt hands coursing roughly over her limbs, patting and sliding before settling on her arm. His metal finger pushed in hard as he cursed before raising his other hand to cover her mouth tightly. “This is gonna hurt, doll,” he whispered.

He actually sounded sad, and that fact alone scared Darcy more than anything else in her entire life had previously.

It was all the warning she had before his hand was digging into her flesh, metal slicing her skin as he thrust his fingers in and pulled out a little chip blinking green lights.

She fought back the screams of pain and tried to remain upright as she clung to the hand covering her mouth, tears streaming down her face. He squeezed the chip between his fingers, crushing it as the lights shut off. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Soldier.” A voice rang out back behind him from the direction of the cabin.

Suddenly, the man was slowly shouting out in Russian, nasally voice echoing in the darkness. 

Sharky whipped around to face her, eyes wide as he gripped her upper arms again, hard. He looked fucking panicked, and now she felt even more fucking panicked, and she was so scared and so tired and felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach as he started shoving her in the other direction, away from the cabin. “You need to go. _Now_. I left my bike a half mile behind you through the woods. Run straight there, hop on the bike, and ride as far as you can until you can switch vehicles.” His voice was tight, and she saw his own fears all over his face. “Find Tony, he can protect you.”

A thousand questions. Darcy had a hundred-thousand questions. One million-thousand questions were burning through her mind, but she could only manage one.

“Protect me from what?” She whispered, terrified at the dread she saw close his face as he started to strain.

“GO!” He shoved her hard as he suddenly knelt down on the floor while the words continued in the distance.

Her entire body numb and shaking in terror, Darcy turned on her heel and ran, sprinting off into the darkness as Sharky’s blood-curling scream rippled through the woods. 

~*~

Darcy ran as fast as her feet could carry her, tree limbs scratching her arms and face as she flew into the night in the direction of the bike. She was panting hard, her chest squeezed painfully tight as she tried to gasp in air, forcing her body to keep moving forward as she saw the bike parked in the distance. One-hundred yards, seventy-five, fifty… She was running like her life depended on it, faster than she’d ever moved in her entire life as her eyes clung to the bike like a raft in the ocean.

It wasn’t enough.

She was twenty yards from the finish line when, for the second time that night, a metal hand clamped down on her as his body flew into her from behind, tackling her to the ground. Her face was crushed into the dirt as he roughly lifted her by her arm, dragging her across the ground back through the woods.

“Stop, please! Please!” She struggled against him, twisting and turning, but he didn’t even spare a glance in her direction. 

“Sharky! Stop!” She shrieked, fought, and kicked as her body bounced and scraped along the ground while he drug her through the woods, metal digging into her skin. 

The broke through back into the clearing, and he drug her right up to that man who had called out the words before, depositing her at his feet.

“Very good,” the enemy she abso-fucking-lutely did not want to befriend said softly, before turning his head to look at her. “Put her in the trunk.”

She started to yell as he fisted his hand in her hair and picked up her arm once again, forcing her towards the back of the car and throwing her hard into the open trunk. “James, Bucky, whoever you are! Please! You don’t need to do this! You don’t have to listen to them! I _saw_ it! I _saw_ something in you!” 

The face that turned towards her sent a chill straight through her. His eyes were yard, unyielding, not a hint of warmth or even life flickering in them. His face was immovable, a mask without emotion. 

James was long gone. 

She was face to face with the Winter Soldier.

She thought she saw lightening in the distance as the trunk slammed shut in her face and the car jolted into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 100 followers and over 100 kudos! I'm blown away!! Thank you to everyone following along and commenting on this story!! :)
> 
> This and the next few chapters make me nervous. I hope you all still enjoy where we are headed with this story!!


	5. Chapter 5

Darcy awoke bound to a chair in her old cell, blood dripping down her arm from where Sharky, Soldier, James, _whoever_ had ripped the chip out. She lifted her head, scanning the room before squeezing her eyes shut. 

Home sweet _fucking_ home.

She couldn’t even bring herself to open her eyes again. She was too afraid.

An odd tightness squeezed her chest as she thought back on all that had happened through the night, her heart aching at the coldness in the Soldier’s eyes when he’d forced her into the trunk. 

Darcy swallowed the bile rising in her throat. She wouldn’t stand a chance if he came in to torture her, she knew that. Not when he was in full-blown Winter Soldier mode. 

She felt tears sting her eyes and she shut them tighter, trying to hold them in. Ninja assassin warrior women did not cry. 

They did _not_.

She felt like a fucking idiot, too, for why she was crying. It wasn’t even all just terror over her own bullshit situation.

She fucking felt sad for _him_. She’d gotten a glimpse of the man within, if you will, while they were in the woods. A tiny little snapshot that rocked her world right off its axis. He was hard, unyielding, deadly. She knew that, she wasn’t stupid. But he was so, so much more. She caught little glimpses of humor, a slight softening of those rough edges, a gentleness that crept in when he allowed it. 

And fear. He knew the monster he became, and he was worried. He was worried about her, about what he would do to her when it overtook him, when the Soldier was summoned and the man ceded control. 

Darcy startled when sudden gunfire popped outside, echoing down the corridors and floating to her ears, and quick as a flash she remembered the lightning she’d seen. 

Thor!

Right? It was Thor this time. It had to be. 

For fuck’s sake it better be fucking Thor. If it wasn’t Thor then she would take the vow to end all fucking vows that she would never, ever speak to him again.

Darcy forced her eyes back open and her heart to calm as she listened carefully. She could hear screams and shouts in the distance, walls busting and doors being slammed. There was a hell of a fight going on somewhere.

When the door to her cell burst open, the last face she expected to see was the one in front of her. Tony fucking Stark, Iron Man suit and all, rushed in to untie her and scooped her up into his arms.

“No time to thank me, kiddo, we gotta fly!” 

“I wasn’t planning to-“

“You’re welcome, you’re welcome, and I’m sorry, short stack, not that you don’t have quite the _rack_ , but I’m taken. Now, with that out of the way, hold on tight!” 

“Now listen here you little fu-“ Darcy’s excellent tirade cut off in a screech and her heart dropped into her stomach as he suddenly flew out of the room, down the hallway and up through several holes in the ceiling and out into the sky. She clung to the neck of his suit as he flew high overhead and in through the opening of a small aircraft carrier/jet of some kind. 

“Everyone here?” He called out, landing in the suit.

Darcy climbed out of his arms and turned to look around. 

And promptly figured she must have died because it was fucking impossible. 

She was face to face with the fucking Avengers. _The_ Avengers.

_The Avengers!_

Her inner fangirl fainted on the spot, but thank fuck her outer cool girl held it together with little more than a squeal.

Thor was holding his hammer, golden light radiating around him, and grinned a little maniacally at her, actually, before bounding up and squeezing whatever air she had managed to suck in right back out in an _oof_ as he hugged her to within an inch of blacking out. 

The Black Widow had her arms crossed and had tilted her face to study Darcy, watching with an unreadable expression with one elegant eyebrow raised. Darcy knew instantly that she was face to face with the real life version of her inner ninja warrior assassin, and she _needed_ to befriend her if it was the last thing she did.

Her eyes kept scanning and popped open wide. Well, would you _looky_ there. Captain _fucking_ America, suit, shield and all, was smiling widely. “The rest took Bucky back in the first jet, Stark. We were waiting on you to head out.”

She heard the Black Widow snort, and shot a questioning glance over Thor’s shoulder when Tony cackled with glee.

He clapped his hands together like an expectant child Christmas morning and popped off the rest of the suit. “Oh, how I cannot _wait_ to review the footage from their flight.”

Darcy had no idea what was going on, but if there was one thing Darcy Lewis could sniff out it was a joke, and she needed to be in on it. Before she could open her mouth, Black Widow responded to her unasked question. “Clint is stuck on a quinjet with the Winter Soldier and the Hulk, all by himself.”

She looked a little gleeful, too, now that Darcy stared at her a little more closely.

A series of explosions rocked the ground below them, and Darcy turned to see fire and smoke billow into the air from the Hydra compound behind the jet. 

“Well then, let’s go!” Tony called out, pulling out a tablet and demanding a series of instructions to what appeared to be thin air.

While she was ushered back to a medical team of some kind, Darcy’s head spun at how much had happened in the past day or so, and she found she was once again, for the second time in her life, speechless. 

For all of two minutes.

Until Tony fucking Stark.

Tony plopped down cavalierly next to her while the slice in her forearm was cleansed. “What, no jetting off in your super suit? Going to just casually take the jet home like the rest of us?” She snarked at him, not bothering to hide her smirk.

The vow of silence had officially ended. Anger was about all that was filtering through her overwhelmed little brain right now, and she latched onto it like a leech, terrified of feeling, well, the _terror_ that was threatening to drown everything else out. She felt jittery, buzzing almost with a high, and wondered briefly if any maryjane was on board.

You know, just to take the edge off.

Natasha snorted and smirked with amusement.

At least her witticisms once again graced the earth. Midgard. Whatever.

“Now, now, is that any way to thank your hero?” Tony’s voice was smooth, so smooth, and she held onto her anger and let it bubble up and over until she felt like smacking him right across his handsome face. 

Darcy felt her lips tug into an un-amused smile. “I have a hunch it was all _your_ fault those idiots thought I was your girlfriend’s sister. If I had known anything about where you were, and I knew Jane and Thor were safe, I would have spilled my guts in a second, you know that?” 

Tony’s smile was broad as he tossed an arm around her shoulders and shrugged, clearly unconcerned. “Yeah, about that. Let’s just say, we needed a way to keep monitoring you and Jane that would fly under the radar, and sisterhood to Pepper seemed to fit the bill. You know, for safety reasons.” He waved his hand in an entirely too blasé manner while the medical team began to stitch Darcy’s arm closed. 

“Safety reasons,” she deadpanned, lifting one brow. “Jane and I are Pepper’s sisters, for safety reasons. Which led to my kidnapping. For _safety reasons_.”

“I never said it was the _best_ plan. It just was what it was, kiddo. No hard feelings.”

As Darcy turned purple in the face, the Black Widow stepped in to diffuse the ticking time bomb that was an enraged, overwhelmed, and _fucking exhausted_ Darcy Lewis. “Thor wouldn’t join the team unless Tony looked after you, Jane, and Erik, Darcy,” she supplied quietly, sliding into a seat across from her and scrolling through a holographic tablet of some kind.

The Black Widow’s smile was more than a little evil, and Darcy was totally feeling like the universe owed this Clint dude a huge favor, but she couldn’t help but giggle like a little girl when Darcy was told she could call her Natasha.

Darcy felt her heart start to warm as she glanced around the jet in search of big thunder himself. 

“Safety reasons,” she said quietly, a small smile lifting her lips as her eyes tracked to a mop of blonde hair.

You just couldn’t stay mad at Thor. It was impossible. It was like being angry with a puppy. 

“Safety reasons,” Stark agreed, kicking up his feet and crossing them on the seat next to Natasha.

~*~

After a tearful reunion with her ‘half-sister’ Jane, half a pizza loaded with extra cheese and extra veggies, a long hot shower, and about ten hours worth of a nap, Darcy found herself wandering around Stark Tower. She’d been assigned a room on the same floor as Steve, who told her that if she called him Captain America, or Mr. America, or Cap, or Cappy, one more time he wouldn’t be friends with her anymore, and he’d asked her to join them on the basement floor when she was ready. 

It was a big decision, because letting go of Cappy as a nickname was hard to do.

Wandering into the elevator, Darcy spun around looking for the buttons. “What the hell? How do I get this thing to move?”

A voice came into the elevator, and her heart raced as she spun around another time to confirm she was alone. “You only have to ask, Miss Lewis.”

“Who the hell is this? And if you call me Miss Lewis, I will never speak to you again, invisible man.”

“My name is Jarvis, and I am Mr. Stark’s AI. I am always around if you need me, you need only ask. What may I help you with, Mi- Darcy?”

She was sure the dumbfounded look on her face was comical, but as was the Darcy way, she opted for humor and an inappropriate level of confidence rather than insecurity or confusion. “My Darcy seems quite presumptuous, Jar Jar. Basement floor, if you would please.”

Bravado usually served her well.

Even false bravado.

“Certainly, Darcy, it would be my pleasure; and if you call me Jar Jar, I also will never speak to you again” he replied dryly, and she felt the elevator glide to life and drop down to the basement floor.

Well, maybe a little less bravado in the future with the non-humans.

As the door opened she turned around and peaked her head back in. “Thanks, Jarvy!”

His voice answered from directly above her as she started to walk down the hallway, and she was _sure_ that he took delight when she startled and jumped. She was also sure Tony had given him far too many human qualities, when he snarked “It is my pleasure, Darcy, unless you refer to me in that manner again.”

Darcy came to a room at the end where Tony, Steve, Natasha, and a man she recognized from television as Dr. Bruce Banner were gathered, staring through one-way glass. 

She cleared her throat as she entered the room, and stuck out her hand as she introduced herself to the Hulk himself. He was a human. Bravado was appropriate. 

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he said softly as he gently shook her hand. 

She smiled, and just couldn’t help herself from replying, “call me ma’am one more time and I will tase you until Big Green makes an appearance.”

Darcy never claimed her gut reactions were smart.

Tony laughed loudly while Natasha bit back a grin, but Steve barely spared them a glance before turning back to the glass. 

Darcy felt her blood run cold and her stomach started to violently fight that half, okay fine, _entire_ , pizza as her eyes were met with the center of the room.

James Buchanan Barnes was trapped in a 12x12 glass block, eyes very nearly on _fire_ as he paced like a lion in a cage. His face was bloodied and bruised, he had thick black shadows under his eyes, and his human arm had deep gashes in several places. His fist was battered as well, and fresh blood dripped onto the glass below as he continued to stalk around his cubed cell. 

She couldn’t help what happened next, and honestly probably didn’t even feel the least bit sorry about it. 

Darcy calmly pulled her taser out of her back pocket, held it gently up to Tony’s neck, and lightly tapped the trigger, eyes never once leaving the containment cell.

“Let him out. Now.”

She was so fucking proud of how her voice didn’t waiver in the slightest.

Tony raised an eyebrow in amusement as the others turned to look at her, faces a mixture of bewilderment and concern, all except for Natasha, who looked like a proud mother hen and who Darcy was sure was going to be her new best friend for the rest of her fucking _life_. 

“Stockholm syndrome, much?” Tony asked wryly.

“Let him out,” Darcy yelled, loud enough to see his head pop up at the sound of her voice behind the glass. 

“Sure, Darcy. It is your first day here, and now that you’ve asked so nicely, I will happily release the Winter Soldier so that he may pillage and plunder the world, leaving a nice little trail of blood and dismembered limbs in his wake. But only because you asked _nicely_.” Tony was shaking his head and snickering as he gently batted the taser away, and the others pointedly ignored the fact that she had just threatened Tony _fucking_ Stark. 

Darcy turned back to look at Sharky through the glass. He was still the Soldier? 

It made the rest of her bravado wither right on out of her.

“How do you turn it off?” Darcy mused, not meaning to speak out loud.

A throat cleared next to her as Dr. Banner stepped up beside her. “Well, I’ve been working on that, and I have a theory.”

Darcy turned to watch him as he carefully kept his face trained on the glass. “We know that once he’s- _summoned_ , he has to complete his assignment. Well, obviously we can’t have him killing any of us, so we can’t just let that happen.”

Darcy nodded slowly, a sinking feeling in her stomach telling her she wasn’t going to like what was next. “Soooo…”

Bruce sighed, turning to face her fully. “So, I’ve been running some tests, and talking with Sam Wilson, a PTSD expert out of Washington, and I think if we give him some sort of a mental anchor or lifeline to the present then we can help him learn to stay in control, even when he’s triggered.”

Darcy turned to look at the faces closely watching her reaction, noting the anger in Steve’s. 

All of a sudden, Darcy just felt overwhelmingly tired and way in over her head all over again.

“I don’t think I follow.”

Bruce cleared his throat, trying again. “We need to tether him to the present, give him something to connect with and hold onto. Something that is bound to him and him alone, something that grounds him.”

“Like a security blanket?” Darcy asked dumbly, her cheeks flushing as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She was a fucking idiot.

Bruce smiled a bit and nodded. “Yeah, kind of, actually. I’ve developed a serum that we would inject him with that would make his mental faculties more open to the connection. But we can only tether him once, so we have to make sure it is to the right partner.”

Darcy’s eyes clouded and she started to look between Bruce and Steve, the clearly obvious choice here. “You mean you want to tether him to a _person_?!” 

Bruce grinned sheepishly. “Not just any person, Darcy. We actually want to tether him to you.”

Darcy’s bark of laughter that burst out clearly surprised all of them, and they each took a slight step back as it rolled out of her. 

What a good fucking joke. It was a joke. The wanted to tether her, whatever the hell that meant. To the Winter _fucking_ Soldier. What a laugh.

“For how long?” Tears rolled down her face as she continued to giggle, unable to calm down and think for one fucking moment as all of the emotions from the entire ordeal caught up with her, pushing her way over the line of hysteria. 

“Forever,” Bruce said simply.

That shut her up quick, and Darcy’s mouth snapped shut as her laughter died instantly. “You are shitting me. You are seriously shitting me. You are _shitting_ me, Brucey. You’re joking. Jarvy is filming this for shits and giggles later, because this is a joke. This is all a big _joke_. Tell me it is a fucking joke, Bruce, I swear to fucking _Thor_.” Darcy was shouting by the end, her mouth running way ahead of her mind, because she just couldn’t understand why anyone at _all_ thought this was _funny_ and a _good idea_ , and she would have kept ranting and raving except for the gentle pat of the Black Widow’s hand on her shoulder.

Steve shot her a forlorn smile before turning back to the glass. “You should tie him to me, I told you all. Look at her, she’s not strong enough for this and she doesn’t know anything about him. She doesn’t know anything about any of this, and it isn’t fair to do this to her.”

It was Darcy’s turn to glare before she turned back to Bruce, because how _dare_ Cappy decide what ninja assassin warrior women were capable of, and now she had the Black fucking Widow to back her up. “What do you mean, _exactly_ , in small, non-sciency words, when you say you need to tether him to me?”

Bruce sighed before turning to Tony. “Perhaps you should explain?”

For the first time since she’d met him, Tony’s voice was totally serious. 

Darcy thought she might shit her pants, and if Natasha weren’t still gently touching her shoulder, she just might have started to do something stupid, like cry.

“It means that, for all intents and purposes, you two would become an invincible super-couple who could basically live forever.”

Darcy paled and coughed out a choked “What?” as the hand on her shoulder tightened and Natasha’s stance shifted from calming into something much more aggressive, directed at Tony Stark.

Bruce sighed, taking over with quite the perfect eyeroll, actually. “Well, no, that actually isn’t _at all_ what it means. Thank you, Tony,” Bruce rolled his eyes again before he heaved out a sigh and continued, carefully ignoring what Darcy was sure was a completely hilarious blank stare on her part. 

“I would inject each of you with a compound that, based on an initial pilot test, would override in part some of the rather extensive brainwashing Hydra has done on him. I’ll spare you the science, but it basically is comprised of a mix of hormones that would make each of you more…” Bruce fumbled briefly for the right word and she felt Natasha relax behind her, before he continued, “open, to each other.”

Darcy took one big giant step backward and sunk to the floor, crossed her legs criss-cross style in front of her, rested her head against the leg of the _Black Fucking Widow_ , and waved for him to continue. 

Some things really were easier to take sitting down.

“It would create a link, and through the combination of hormones and gamma radiation, theoretically you could almost _sense_ each other’s emotions. You would be able to help him when he was about to lose control, and he would still sense you even if he did.” 

Darcy was doing her best fish on a line impression, her mouth gaping, lips opening and shutting just as rapidly as she struggled for words before one large question loomed over her. 

As seemed to be her destiny ever since Sharky came into her life, Darcy had ten billion million questions, and could only get out one.

“Pilot test?”

Bruce turned beet red and coughed out an embarrassed chuckle, before he gave the cutest little half shrug Darcy had ever seen and looked helplessly over towards Natasha.

She, thank Thor, cut straight to the point. 

“The Hulk.”

Oh.

Oh.

Wait, what?

Natasha borrowed Bruce’s signature eyeroll and softened it with a patient smile, gently threading her fingers through Darcy’s hair. “I’m tethered to Bruce, but more specifically, to the Hulk. It works,” she said quietly, a secret little glance shot over to Bruce before her face became carefully blank.

“Why me?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Darcy had never felt so small in her entire life.

“Because, for whatever reason, it seems you two already have some kind of a bond, and whenever I enter the room, he’s got some kind of wall that makes him _hate_ me.” Steve sounded pissed, and hurt, and so un-America that she just kind of short circuited and responded in a completely inappropriate and bizarre and hysterical manner.

She laughed.

Darcy’s sarcastic burst of laughter died abruptly as she looked at them all in turn once again, and took in the sincerity and hope in their eyes. She felt her stomach sink and had the uncomfortable sensation that she was about to jump off a metaphorical cliff in the very near future. “What makes you say that we have a bond?”

Natasha nodded towards the glass cube. “Why don’t you go in and see for yourself?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Anxiously taps keyboard waiting to see what you think**
> 
> Here is where I've made the largest adjustments from Rescue Me, based on feedback from that story. I really, really, REALLY hope I'm doing this story justice.
> 
> THANK YOU for the kudos, comments, follows, etc. This is such a wonderful community and it really warms my heart to be a part of it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a beast of a chapter. It is 5,000 words and I actually moved stuff over into the next one because it would have been even longer.
> 
> You've been warned!!!

Darcy turned to face his cell and nodded to herself resolutely. She was a warrior goddess extraordinaire. As with everything else since Sharky, she could fucking _do_ this.

With her heart in her throat, Darcy opened the door, entered the room, and slowly walked up to the front of the glass containment cell.

He had stopped pacing as soon as she entered, and stood to rest at the front of the glass with his head bowed. Darcy heard the door open again behind her, and as she turned to look over her shoulder at Steve, she heard a low growl come from inside the cube.

His head was up, his eyes were shooting daggers at Steve, both of his fists were balled, and his body was so tense you could bounce a quarter off him. 

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t find it at least a teeny tiny bit sexy.

Okay, a _lot_ sexy.

Especially that little growl. _Rawr_.

Steve smiled a bit at him. “Hey, Bucky,” he said cautiously, holding up both of his hands in a placating gesture.

The smashing of his fist into the glass startled Darcy so hard she leapt back, and cried out “Jesus fucking _Christ_ , dude, don’t fucking do that!”

The roar that rolled out of him sent shivers racing down her spine, and she briefly wondered how much therapy she was going to need to deal with the fact that a roaring Sharky was such a damn turn on. He smashed his fist into the glass once again, hard enough he had to have cracked a knuckle, and she watched fresh blood ooze down the glass in front of her. 

“Stop That! Bad! Bad, Sharky! You stop that _right this minute_ , James Buchanan Barnes!” She didn’t know she was yelling until his head whipped over to her, eyes bright as they stared into hers. 

She also noted Steve’s jaw nearly touching the floor, and thought with smug satisfaction that she might talk even dirtier just to see if his cheeks would burn any brighter.

Slowly, Sharky lowered his fist from the glass, resting his arms tightly at his sides, eyes never leaving hers. 

Steve took a step towards her, and as his hand reached out to touch her arm the growling resumed, this time complete with an open snarl. Sharky had curled his lips back and bared his teeth, his powerful hands flexing, metal and flesh. 

It was not the least bit arousing. 

It was so, _so_ sexy she wanted to _die_. 

Good god in Asgard, what in the hell was wrong with her?

Darcy held her hand up towards Steve, stopping him in his tracks, eyes never leaving Sharky’s as she gulped in a deep breath. 

Well, would you look at that. Her and Sharky really _did_ seem to have some sort of bond.

A strong, nigh on overwhelming, desire to jump someone’s bones and fuck them into the floor counted, didn’t it?

Steve’s voice was so quiet she had to strain to hear him when he addressed her. “He was fighting outside of your cell, did you know that?”

Darcy shook her head, her mind spinning as she tried to understand what coy little message Steve was giving her. Darcy was learning the hard way that men from the forties really weren’t any simpler than the hipsters she’d picked up in the modern era.

Steve sighed, nearly taking a step towards her until Sharky’s low growl had him pausing mid-action. “He wouldn’t let _anyone_ through to you. Not just us, Darcy. He wouldn’t let anyone through that door. I had to distract him just to get Stark in to rescue you.”

Steve looked so dejected and confused, that if she wasn’t already dealing with one shattered super soldier, it would have just about broken what was left of her heart. 

“Do you know what he was repeating to himself, over and over, as he beat down each and every Hydra agent coming for you?” 

Darcy felt one tear slip down her cheek as she mutely shook her head.

“His name. He was repeating it, over and over, James Buchanan Barnes, I am James Buchanan Barnes. It was like the second he stopped saying, it he might forget it forever” Steve finished in an anguished whisper, his handsome face pinched with pain. 

Big, fat tears rolled down her face, and Darcy knew without a doubt that she was an ugly crier and perhaps it would be best to keep that fun fact to herself if she could manage it. 

Humor didn’t seem to be an appropriate response here, but maybe she could go with deflection and distraction.

Darcy gave Steve a small, totally overwhelmed smile, briskly brushed the tears off her cheeks, and promptly changed the subject. “So, have you asked him?” 

That brought Steve up short. “What? Asked him what?”

Darcy rolled her eyes and mumbled _men_ under her breath. She took a deep breath before turning back to the man before her in the glass cell. “Look, Steverino. It is plain as fucking day that you don’t think I can handle this, and nothing I say will change your mind. So, I was just curious, since you seem to know best and all,” she just couldn’t help a _tiny_ bit of snark, “have you asked him what _he_ wants, who he wants to be- bonded to?” Darcy tried, she really did, to keep her voice soft, gentle and soothing, but she was pretty sure she managed to still imply rather forcefully that they were _idiots_ if they _hadn’t even asked him_.

Steve scoffed next to her. “No, of course not.”

Darcy gritted her teeth and opened her eyes wide, nodding her head towards the cube to prompt him when he remained silent. “ _Well_ ,” she ground out.

Tony’s voice cut in from the ceiling. “You can’t just talk to him, kiddo. He’s the Winter Soldier.”

Darcy shrugged casually with a roll of her eyes before taking a step closer to the glass. Her mind raced as he stepped closer as well, mirroring her stance, and she tilted her head, trying to keep her posture calm and relaxed. She debated what to call him a few seconds longer, before deciding to give it the good ole Darcy try.

And promptly put her foot in her fucking mouth.

“Sharky?” She started with a big grin.

Until he flinched.

And his eyes narrowed.

And he _growled_. Which was so not the hottest thing that may have happened to her in her entire life.

Not at _all_.

Never one to leave well enough alone, she summoned the rest of her ninja assassin warrior woman courage and quickly tried again. “I- I mean, clearly that wasn’t the right thing to say. Uh, so, not totally sure what name you’re going by these days, dude. Maybe we start with who you feel like right now? Soldier? Is that right?” 

His eyes burned into hers for a full, silent, oppressing and suffocating minute, until, thank _fuck_ , he nodded.

_Phew_. 

She needed to keep it simple, because if something like a name caused that much aggression, who knew where her runaway mouth was going to land her.

“Buck-“ The animosity in Bucky’s gaze as it slid over to Steve’s shut him up before he could finish, and she thought if anybody needed a hug from Thor today, it was totally Cappy, that poor dejected little super soldier.

“Soldier?” Darcy tried again, her face soft as his head whipped around and back towards her, eyes sharp.

“Got any thoughts on who you’d like to be stuck with?” She tried for brash, but even she would admit it came out weak at best.

He didn’t even blink, just continued to stare.

Darcy sighed and shrugged, before asking again. “You got a preference, between me and Steve-O?” Humor could work, right? Humor was her forte, after all. 

He turned his head between them once, twice, three times, before settling his gaze firmly on her. 

Darcy thought she might puke. Or swoon. 

She was totally, absolutely, without a fucking _doubt_ , going to do this.

She nodded once, smiling a bit too widely to be considered casual. “Alrighty, Soldier. Okay. We are going to fucking _do_ this thing, you and I. We are going to be the best fucking team there ever was, just you wait.”

Darcy brought her right hand up to gently touch the glass in front of her, palm flat and resting on the surface. His large metal hand raised up in response, flattening out to mirror hers on the other side of the glass. “Just you wait,” she whispered again, her heart fluttering, before she turned to walk out of the room.

~*~

“I got a list of demands, peeps, and I want ‘em met.” Darcy kicked her feet onto Bruce’s lab bench and slung back in the chair while the medical assistant prepped her arm for the injection.

Tony’s eyes narrowed and she just _knew_ he was fighting back a smirk. “Name ‘em.”

She nodded, holding up the fingers on her right fist in time with her list. “One, I get lasik for _free_ , because my contacts have been in for about three days now and, let’s face it, messing around with contacts and glasses and all that jazz when you are partnered to a super soldier for the rest of your life is a huge pain in the ass that doesn’t need to be there, am I right?”

Bruce chuckled while he wiped the antiseptic over her skin. 

“Seems reasonable,” Tony allowed, gesturing with a nod. “Continue.”

“Two, I want a suite in the tower for Big Boy Barnes and me, outfitted with a kitchen that will knock Gordon Ramsey’s socks off, and _separate rooms_. I feel like I need to emphasize the _separate rooms_ part of the suite.”

Bruce’s smile was broad as he noted something down on the holographic chart next to him, while Tony rolled his eyes and agreed. “Done. I’ll give you one more, short stack, better make it a good one.”

Darcy bit her lip and considered. Expense account? Big fat paycheck? Unlimited takeout for a year? So many options, so little time to choose.

“A favor, no questions asked,” Natasha cut in as she slid into the room. 

Darcy lit up like a kid with six pixie sticks. “Yes! That is totally what I want! A favor with no questions asked!”

Tony’s eyes were narrowed as he stroked his chin in thought. “No, but-“ he held up his hand to fend off the two complaints about to hurdle his way, “I will soup up your taser and outfit you with a few Black Widow bites, too.”

“Done,” Darcy slammed her hand down on the bench with a wide grin. 

Ten minutes later, she was pretty sure she should have demanded the fucking favor, _and_ the expense account, _and_ the takeout, _and_ every other fucking thing she could dream of, when the serum burned like fire through her veins, blinding her with the pain. She struggled against the restraints and screamed, until blackness overtook her.

~*~

A few hours later, Darcy cracked her eyes open and was met with several very concerned Avengers. “I can see!” She croaked out, throat dry from the screams, blinking rapidly.

Natasha untied her restraints with a little grin and handed her a cold glass of water, which she downed instantly. “Yeah, Tony was feeling magnanimous and had the medical team go ahead and do your lasik while you were out.” 

Darcy grinned, trying to look at everything at once with the joy of glasses and contact-free eyeballs, before she recalled just why exactly she’d gotten free lasik in the first place. “How is he?” She whispered hesitantly, holding out her glass for a refill.

“Not sure yet. We’ve all been waiting for you. Bruce thinks it would be best if you were the first person he saw, given the point is for you guys to bond. Are you ready?”

Darcy nodded and shut her eyes against a fresh wave of pain. She held out a hand, and Natasha helped her to her feet, waiting patiently until Darcy released the vice-like grip she had on her arm and slowly started to move forward.

As Darcy walked towards the door, Steve burst through the door and caught her arm. “Just… Just take care of him, okay?”

Darcy nodded firmly before bringing her hand up to squeeze his. She swallowed down a wave of tears. “Always.” 

The sincerity and depth of emotion in her voice surprised even her, and before she could think too hard on whatever the _fuck_ that was, she slowly made her way to the door.

“Well, Avengers, I guess it’s time for me to go get my man!”

The shake in her voice was a little embarrassing, but she was positive that was totally an after effect from the serum, and absolutely not due to nerves. Ninja assassin warrior women did not have something as silly as nerves to deal with.

Speaking of, that reminded her of a rather important demand she forgot to mention. “Hey, Natasha?”

The encouraging smile Natasha gave her shot Darcy’s confidence up a solid two-million points. “I forgot to ask, do you think you could train me? You know, in your spare time? So I can keep up with the big guy and all? Right now my record is a solid half a mile, in a solid fifteen minute walk, if you catch my drift.”

Natasha held up a hand with another patient smile. “I’ve already got a nutrition plan and training schedule mapped out for you, Darcy. It would be my pleasure.”

Darcy did not do a quick little victory dance before letting out a deep breath.

She did _not_.

Unless you counted squealing and waving your hands in the air with a little leap, in which case she did, and she wasn’t even sorry about it, god damnit.

Darcy took one last deep breath for courage, grounded herself in the knowledge that she was a fucking _boss_ and she could fucking _do this_ , and she swung the door open wide.

Darcy debated once again her approach as she took him in. He clearly had been curled up on the floor, but when the door was opening he had risen to his feet and moved to stand in front of the glass. Did that mean she should shoot for easy, breezy, confident Darcy, or quiet, reserved, slightly less brash Darcy?

When she raised her eyes to his, Darcy saw the fear, confusion, and pain coursing through him. She noticed immediately that he looked a fuck-ton more present than earlier.

Easy, breezy, with a little side of snarky just might fit the bill.

Darcy gave him a wry grin and a little wave. “How’s it hanging, Sharky?” Darcy called out in greeting as she moved to stand in front of the glass.

His eyes cleared a bit of the fog as he watched her, and she watched him swallow hard as she raised her hand up to the glass. Darcy pretended she was not avidly tracing the long lines of his neck as he flattened his metal hand in response to mirror hers through the glass.

“What’s wrong with me?” His deep voice cracked just a bit as his eyes bore into hers.

Darcy smiled a little, trying to lighten a bit of the tension. “Let’s start with introductions first, big guy, and save the hard questions for later. I’m Darcy Lewis, your new BFF.”

She knew instantly it was a reference he wouldn’t get, and felt like a jackass as he looked so lost and confused and, somehow, so small. “Best friend forever,” she clarified with a broad smile and a wink.

His face softened as his eyes roamed over her face. “Of course. You were running away again.” It was a statement, not a question, and she was more than a little happy that he thankfully remembered that much, at least.

She nodded. “That’s right, and you were, _are_ , my Sharky. Your name is-“ 

“James Buchanan Barnes.” He interrupted, eyes open wide. 

Darcy gave him a blinding smile and a big thumbs up with her free hand. “That’s right, big guy. James Buchanan Barnes. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, if you’re feeling really fancy today. Which you should be. You should be feeling fancy every day, because you’re a stud, dude.”

The tiny little smile he lifted his lips up into just about broke whatever was left of her heart.

Darcy hated herself a little bit for what she said next, and nearly kicked herself when she saw his expression shutter. “So, uh, is that the last thing you remember? Me running?”

He swallowed once again and hesitated, before he grimaced and said quietly, “I hunted you down and took you back. I didn’t want to, you have to believe me.” His voice broke.

She stroked her fingers soothingly over the glass. “I know, Sharky, I know. You were the one who told me to run. It wasn’t your fault,” she said firmly.

He shook his head, shoulders turning inward, and Darcy wanted nothing more than to give him a big, warm, heart-squeezing, breath-oofing, Thor-sized hug.

“Where are we, Darcy?” His voice was timid, confused.

She smiled wide and lifted her shoulder in a casual shrug. “Right where your handlers wanted me to tell you where to get, ironically. Welcome to Stark Tower!”

“Avengers Tower,” Tony’s voice boomed through the ceiling.

Darcy watched the confusion dance across his face as he tilted his head. His eyes shot back to the glass wall behind her suddenly, before coming back to rest on her face. “I know that voice. What did they do?” He was afraid again, eyes wide as he started to panic.

“Woah, woah, woah, back that panic train right up to the station, big guy. Breathe deep. It is going to be a-okay.”

He shook his head rapidly as he forced himself to breathe, one breath, two, three. 

“What did they do?” His jaw was clenched so tight Darcy was worried his teeth might crack.

She sighed before turning back to look at the glass. “Let him out, or let me in, guys.” 

The door to the glass clicked open, and he looked questioningly at her before he slowly walked out of the cube and into the room with her. 

“Would you prefer I call you James, or Bucky?” 

He scowled deeply before he strode up to stand barely a foot away from her, cutting her off with a quick shake of his head. “Not Bucky, doll. I don’t know who that man is anymore.”

She nodded once in understanding before tilting her head and pursing her lips in thought. Darcy shot him a sassy little grin, gathered up her world-famous courage, and blundered on with all ninja assassin warrior goddess-ness left in her little body. “Very well then. James, or something else? Barnes? Sarg? Barnesaroo? B-B? J-Boogie? Jim-bob? Better stop me while you can, Sharky, I got a million of these.”

As she rolled through the list his frown eased up until by the end he looked like he was holding back another tiny little smile. 

New vow. She was going to make him smile as big and as often as he possibly could. 

“Any of those will do,” he said quietly, before jumping in when he saw the devious look on her face. “Well, any of the first few. I draw the line at J-Boogie, and my dad went by Jim, so none of that shit, neither.”

Darcy broke out into a delighted laugh, clapping her hands before holding one out to shake. He took her hand into his own, warm fingers holding it tightly as he gave it a slight squeeze. “It’s nice to meet you, James.” 

Her smile was almost dazzling when he answered, “Nice to meet you too, Darcy.”

His voice was deliciously warm, and the feel of his rough strong hand against hers sent shivers to her toes. Darcy smiled at him again as she pulled her hand away, watching him carefully, not quite sure where to ramble next. 

“What did they do?” He asked again, voice stronger and more sure this time.

Darcy sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth before giving a big sigh. “Well, uh, apparently your alter ego refused to give up his last assignment. That guy is surprisingly persistent, dude. So, Dr. Banner worked with some experts and came up with another solution, to help you try to control it.”

He nodded slowly, eyes sharp as he watched her hesitantly. “And?”

Darcy exhaled a puff of air before bringing her hands to hold out before her, palms up towards the ceiling. He brought both hands, one flesh, one metal, down to rest gently on top of hers, and clasped her fingers. “Sooo, they decided to give you something to help you keep control, even when you’re in full blown Soldier mode. Pretty cool, huh?”

His eyes were wary now as he gently held her hands, suspicion growing, and she knew he knew the answer before he asked the question. “Get to the point, doll.”

Darcy’s eyes danced down to look at the tops of his hands before darting back up. She smiled shyly as she swallowed and shrugged, “so, you are now the proud owner of a new life partner, Sarg! I’m your new, uh, well life partner, gee I’m gonna have to come up with a catchier phrase for this whole thing we’ve got goin’ on now aren’t I.” 

She felt the white-hot rage pulse through her and squeezed his hands tightly, forcing his gaze down to hers. His chest was heaving with barely restrained fury while his eyes blazed, burning straight into her heart.

Darcy smiled gently at him, while silently praying the bones in her fingers didn’t break. Good god, he was fucking _furious_. Yet, here he was, holding her fingers in a vice as he worked to slow his breathing, hanging on, rather than raging out and losing control. 

It was working. The bond worked.

Holy fucking shitballs. The bond _worked_.

Darcy held onto his hands and stared into his eyes as he fought to lock it all back down. She watched the steel recede and the blue brighten up as he exhaled a long, slow breath, and she watched his eyes light up with surprise as he realized it, too. 

He was in control. 

~*~

He felt her thumb stroking over the back of his hand, and his eyes were wide as he looked down at her again. Darcy’s confident smile grew, and he found himself, like a fucking idiot, smiling a shy little smile right back at her. 

Darcy tilted her head and bit her lip. He was quickly realizing she did that when she wasn’t quite sure how to tell him something without pissing him off. “Spit it out,” he said gruffly, gently squeezing the two small hands he still held in his.

Darcy nodded and sighed. “Well, not that I’m insecure or anything, big boy, but, uh, well. I was just wondering what exactly angered you? Were you upset you were partnered to me and not… not someone else? Or were you-“

He cut her off with a quick jerk of his head. “No, no if it was going to be anyone I’m glad it was you.”

I’ll be fucking _damned_ , he thought, as he realized that was the god’s honest truth. 

He’s known this dame for days, tops, and he’s _glad_ that it was _her_?

Darcy’s red lips tipped up in a sweet smile as she flushed a little pink, and she squeezed his hands as she prodded. “But?”

His eyes met hers, and something on his face must have shown because he saw her bright blue eyes wash out with tears. Like a dam bursting in him, the words just poured out. “I’m upset I was tethered to someone at all. I’m pissed that was the solution. Your life is ruined! Your stuck with me for, fuck Darce, for _life_ , you said? You’ve barely spent a few hours with me before this, and it was when I was fucking choking you or fucking interrogating you! You don’t know me at all, and now you’re stuck with me for the rest of your fucking _life_?” He was screaming by the end, he knew it and couldn’t stop himself, knew she felt his breath hot on her face as he shouted and raged, knew his hands were holding hers tight enough to bruise, but like the selfish bastard he was, he just couldn’t fucking stop himself.

~*~

Darcy let him yell, let him rail and squeeze and hold her hands tight as it bubbled out of him. 

She was adding counseling sessions with this Sam Wilson dude to her list of demands.

And not just for Barnes. If she was going to do this thing, damnit, she was going to do it _right_.

Darcy fought to keep an open expression on her face and the tears out of her eyes. He wouldn’t understand if he saw her cry, he’d think it was because of him, because of something he did. He wouldn’t understand that her heart was breaking and her eyes were watering because he was so damn broken he thought it was a death sentence to be ‘stuck with him’ for the rest of her life, like she had so many other fantastic fucking options. In that moment, all she wanted to do was pull him close and cry, weep for the years he’d lost, weep for the memories that were long gone, weep for the anger and fear and anguish he lived with every day of his life. 

Well, fuck _that_ shit. _Fuck that_. Darcy Lewis was not a _weeper_ , and the last thing this man needed were her tears.

Darcy fucking _refused_. James Buchanan Barnes was not going to wallow on her watch, that was for god damned sure. She wasn’t going to give him any pity (openly), or sadness (openly), or tears (when he could see it, anyway, and five exclamation points were added to the demand to meet with Sam). 

So, Darcy stood still, and silent, and serene, and let him scream, and yell, and carry on. 

When he finished, instead of shedding a single tear, Darcy just squeezed his hands and smiled.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” she said sternly, dropping her smile to stare firmly into those fucking _gorgeous_ blue eyes. He tried to look away, but she jerked his hands forward, forcing him to keep his eyes on hers.

“You better listen up, buttercup, and listen good, because I’m only going to say this once. I had a choice. Do you hear me? I could have said no, and I could have walked out that door and never thought twice about leaving you behind. No one forced me to do this. Actually, one individual for a fact openly, and vocally, didn’t want me to.”

“Then why?” His voice was so small, so unsure, and it made her heart melt all over again.

Darcy sighed heavily before answering him. “Honestly,” she smiled ruefully, “I can’t really tell you. It was just- just something I felt like I needed to do. Bruce explained it all, and beyond being kind of overwhelmed, it never really occurred to me to say no. Do you remember when I came in here with Steve?”

His brow creased in thought before his eyes blinked open wide and he hesitantly nodded. Darcy nodded back and continued. “Good. I came in to ask the Soldier who he wanted, he picked me, right? I looked in the face of the Winter Soldier, and, for whatever reason, he looked back. He actually _looked_ back. Darcy Elizabeth Lewis does not run away from a challenge, Sarg. If he wanted me, who was I to turn my back on him? Seems to me like plenty of people have done enough of that in his lifetime. I don’t need to be on that list.”

He watched her carefully, head tilted as he hung on to every word. 

A little bubble of a thought burst in Darcy’s brain, and it shot out of her mouth before she could second-guess it. “How long were you, uh, _awake_ , before you first came into my cell to question me?”

He frowned and pursed his lips as he thought back. “An hour, maybe two.” 

Darcy’s jaw dropped as he shrugged. “So, for all intents and purposes, you have a handful of hours of memories, and that’s about it? And they were all centered around me?”

He shrugged again and nodded, clearly confused as she started to smile. “No wonder the Soldier picked me, he didn’t know anybody else, anyways.”

He actually chuckled at that, and the warmth in his eyes sent shivers of excitement darting across her skin. “I guess so.”

Darcy pursed her lips and smiled wryly at him before swallowing. “Well, James. You’re safe now, and somewhat free,” she jerked her head towards the one-way mirror where she knew the team was watching closely. “I doubt they’ll let you out of the building for awhile, but no one is going to wipe you or torture you or force you to do things anymore. The world, or at least Stark Tower, is your oyster, Barnesy-Boy.”

“ _Avengers_ Tower, Lewis, get it right,” Tony cut in with a huff of impatience.

Darcy waived it away. “Yeah, yeah, back to the important shit. Like I was saying, big guy. What do _you_ want to do?”

His eyes were wide as he looked around the room before settling back on her. “I got no idea.” He turned to look over his shoulder towards the door. 

Darcy flashed a smile at him as she dropped his metal hand to hold his flesh one firmly in hers, pulling him along as she brought her other hand up to rest on his strong forearm. “How about actually meet ‘the team’? I think that’s a great place to start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the comments and kudos! Chatting with you all is the best. I love the feedback and encouragement! 
> 
> I know this was a long chapter, but I really felt like it would have been wrong to split it. Soo, you're welcome, or I'm sorry, depending on your perspective :) :) :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter didn't even exist until I decided that I needed a transition from last chapter into some character building and fluff in the next one. Let's just say, 5000 words later, I hope you enjoy it and it wasn't too much :)

Darcy opened the door to the observation room, and gently tugged a very anxious, very large super soldier in behind her. “Hey guys! It is my pleasure to introduce you, to none other than the man himself, drumroll please...” 

Darcy paused for dramatic affect with her eyebrows raised expectantly, and frankly, was fucking disappointed in the cautious stares she was receiving from Tony, Natasha, and Bruce. There was a distinct lack of drum rolling going on up in here.

“No? No drumroll? We’re gonna have to work on that, guys. It is common courtesy that when someone asks for a drumroll, you-” a gentle squeeze from the even more anxious man behind her, thank _fuck_ , cut the ramble off before she really got rolling, and Darcy snapped back. 

She cleared her throat with an anxious smile. “Ah, yes, what was I saying? Drumroll, drumroll… Oh! Meet James Buchanan Barnes! Sorry kids, you can’t call him J-Boogie for short, I’ve already tried,” she said with a shrug and a fake sigh, before giggling when she heard Tony mumble a dry _so we’ve heard_ under his breath.

Darcy’s smile quickly turned forced as she jerked her head impatiently between the blank humans and the man behind her, raising her eyebrows higher and higher until Natasha spoke up quietly, “it’s nice to meet you, Sergeant Barnes. My name is Na-“

“Natalia,” he breathed, and oh fucking shit, did they have history or something?

That would just take the fucking cake, wouldn’t it? Darcy most definitely could not hold her own in a love triangle with the _Black Widow_ , after all, so if that’s the kind of shit she was up against, she’d just fold now and back out in peace. 

Maybe have Thor sweep her off to Asgard? It probably wouldn’t come to that. 

Why was everyone so quiet? You could here a literal pin drop.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Oh, for the love of fuck. Was she going to have to relocate to Asgard?

Natasha’s face was unreadable as her eyes narrowed. “So you do remember.”

The grip on her hand was just this side of _bone crushing_ , and apparently her and Sharky were going to have to have a safe word or something (added to the list with two exclamation points when he continued to squeeze the life out of her poor, innocent little fingers). 

Finally, he nodded once and let out a slow breath. “I’m so sorr-“

“No, Barnes,” Natasha cut him off quietly, with a gentle but firm shake of her head. “You can’t control your past any more than I can control mine.” She sighed, exchanged a glance at Bruce who gave her a tentative smile, and soldiered on. “We just pick up the pieces and do the best we can from here on out. What do you say we wipe the slate clean?”

God damnit if Sharky’s pretty blue eyes didn’t blur with tears, Darcy noted, with a strong urge to pinch his adorable little cheeks. He gave Darcy’s hand a quick squeeze before dropping it to extend his out towards Natasha.

“I’d like that,” he said roughly. 

The warm “me too” he received from Natasha did not bring tears to Darcy’s eyes as they shook hands.

It most certainly did _not_.

She also definitely did not quickly brush away said tears and have to blink back a few more when Bruce stepped up to give him a firm handshake and a brotherly pat on the arm, welcoming him to the team.

All her little ducklings were playing together nicely in the pond, and Darcy was so fucking proud she might burst.

Until it was time for Tony. 

Fucking Tony.

Tony Fucking Stark was going to be the death of her, she swore to fucking Thor.

He was watching Sharky with a puzzled frown, long fingers stroking his goatee, before he casually announced “Tony Stark. I’ve seen your file. You killed my parents. Did you know that?”

Darcy could murder that little fucker. Kill him dead right then and there. She didn’t even realize she’d whipped the taser out of her back pocket until Sharky held up a hand and shot her a strange little look of amused confusion before he turned back to Tony, with his shoulders slumped, and the cutest little ‘apology and regret face’ Darcy had ever seen. “No, but I-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know, brain washed, on ice, all that. Just, know that I don’t trust you, and uh, expect retribution, I dunno, something like that.”

Darcy was going to exact retribution in her own fashion. That was for damned fucking sure.

She had a hunch, based on a quick ‘we are evil geniuses and on the same wavelength’ glance she shared with Natasha, that she had a new ninja assassin warrior goddess on her team, too.

Bless his little heart, Sharky just nodded, eyes serious in spite of the careless manner Tony dropped the threat. “I understand.”

“Good.”

“Apologies for interrupting. Mister Sam Wilson is here to meet with you, Sargeant Barnes, at your convenience,” Jarvis’ smooth voice cut in overhead.

“Phew,” Darcy mumbled, giving Sharky a wide grin and a thumbs up, “saved by the artificial intelligence bell.”

“Indeed,” Jarvis replied dryly. 

James cleared his throat before scanning the room. “Uh, so, this the team? Just the five of us?”

Darcy blanched and looked around. How could she have forgotten? Where was Steve? Now that she thought about it, where was Thor?

Bruce chuckled and fiddled with his glasses, wiping them clean on his undershirt, eyes carefully angled down. “Based on how it went for Tasha and I, we thought maybe we’d pace out introductions, just a few at a time. Steve offered to greet Sam once he got here, so you’ll see him when you meet Sam.”

“You mean, you and Natalia-?” James trailed off in surprise. 

There was something about the Russian pronunciation that Darcy found more than a little arousing, now that she thought about it.

Wasn’t _that_ a fun little tidbit she’d love to explore more of in the future.

Natasha just shrugged. “Bruce has his own demons to deal with,” she said quietly. “As do I.”

“Don’t we all,” James answered.

Darcy was going to order Thor hugs for each and every super hero in this tower, every day this week, damnit. 

“Darcy, if you’d like to meet with Pepper before you leave, she will review your options for your suite with Sergeant Barnes. In the meantime, Sergeant Barnes, you have been assigned a room in the guest quarters with Mr. Wilson,” Jarvis announced.

“Suite?” James questioned.

All Darcy could do was shrug and grin. “And here I bet you thought being partners with me didn’t come with any perks. Just you wait, Sharky, I’m full of surprises,” she said, taking a firm hold on his hand and tugging him towards the elevator with a wink. “We’ll see you guys later?”

“Absolutely,” Natasha said with a smile, resting her hand casually on Bruce’s shoulder. 

Darcy didn’t miss the surprised (and dare she say delighted) little smile Bruce shot Natasha’s way before nodding. “Yeah, absolutely,” he echoed.

As the elevator door slid shut Darcy cackled with glee when James said “where do I go to lay a bet on those two?”

“Current wagers are Mister Stark, fifty dollars on three weeks from now; Miss Potts, fifty dollars on next Tuesday; Captain Rogers, fifty dollars on the evening immediately following the next mission; and Darcy, fifty dollars on this Friday night,” Jarvis offered.

Darcy shrugged and didn’t bother to hide her grin as Sharky raised his brow at her. “What? You don’t think you’re the only one with observational skills?”

“Put me down for fifty on the first Friday one month from now, uh, Jarvis.”

“Certainly, Sergeant Barnes.”

*~*

“Well?” 

Bruce slid his arm around Natasha’s waist and started to lead her towards the elevator. “You were right, as always, Nat.”

She let out a grin and twined her arm under his to wrap around his waist. “She’s perfect. I’m actually a little impressed with _how_ perfect, if I’m being honest. I have this odd urge to be her friend.” 

Bruce gave a wry smile as the elevator started to head up to their own suite. “You think Stark has a pool going yet on how long before they get together?”

Natasha’s face was carefully blank but her eyes were dancing when she gave a casual shrug. “I may have already put myself down for fifty on three weeks from yesterday, and you for fifty on two weeks from tomorrow, just to give us better odds.”

Bruce chuckled as the elevator opened, and took her hand in his as they started to walk down the hall towards their suite. “That’s my girl.”

Natasha’s eyes were warm and her cheeks a little flushed when she answered softly, “I guess so.”

~*~

Pepper Potts was so put together Darcy was more than a little embarrassed she had met her wearing yesterday’s yoga pants and a long-sleeved shirt with cats wearing sombreros dancing all over her upper body. 

Darcy had sighed, swallowed her many, _many_ insecurities when it came to the always beautiful, always put together, always popular girls like Pepper Potts, and stepped into Pepper’s office. And promptly hated herself a little bit, because Pepper had greeted her with a warm hug, a mimosa, and an understanding smile. “After all, we are half-sisters,” the other woman said with a wry grin.

Darcy had liked her instantly, and felt more than a little ashamed at her snap judgment. She resolved to add Pepper to the formal Ninja Assassin Warrior Goddess club she was going to start with Natasha. 

She needed a better title for her club.

Sisterhood. It was a sisterhood, damnit, and Jane was going to join too.

Darcy had tried to go with Sharky to his meeting with Sam and Steve, and had been told in no uncertain terms that he already had a ma, and even if he didn’t remember much about her, her certainly didn’t need a new one now.

Sergeant Barnes, apparently, was a little bit of a smart ass. 

And holy shitballs, was it was a giant fucking turn on. Not much got her motor running faster than quick intelligence, sarcasm, and sass.

Well, that and the muscles he had.

The way he filled a room.

Fuck, the way he filled a _shirt_ now that she was being honest with herself.

 

Let’s be honest, James Buchanan Barnes was sex on a stick, and anyone who denied it was a fucking liar who couldn’t be trusted.

_Anywho_ , here she was, now back in her own tiny studio apartment in Midtown, surrounded by moving boxes as she drank white wine from the bottle and casually assembled playlist after playlist for every possibility she could think of.

Music made the mood, in Darcy’s mind. And with Sharky, mood was probably going to account for a solid 95% of the success of his day.

It was going to be a no-sleep, two bottles of wine minimum, kind of night.

~*~

The next day, after watching every minute of the night tick by while he sat with his back in the corner and chair facing the door, James found himself back down in Bruce Banner’s lab with a splitting headache and bags under his eyes. Bruce had suggested they begin some of the cognitive therapy techniques Sam recommended yesterday, while Sam drew up some kind of overall treatment plan. Apparently, he had his second meeting this Sam later this afternoon, after Darcy was through with him. Sam thought they should start with a blend of approaches for both amnesia and shell shock.

No, that wasn’t right.

PTSD. That’s what they were calling it these days, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

They could call it whatever the fuck they wanted, as far as he was concerned. Same shit, different name.

He’d tried to tell Darcy to stay out of it, that he could handle that side of things. He needed to feel a little more like a man, and a little less like her charity case, if this shit was ever going to get off the ground between them.

It hadn’t exactly gone over all that well. In retrospect that was likely his fault (and not just because he was playing the martyr, as Sam would claim). 

No one told Darcy Lewis what to do.

“Doll, you don’t have to worry about this end of it. You just take care of the decorating for the suite and whatever else you want, you know, go on about your life.” He’d thought he was being fair, he was so damn worried she was losing it all just to help him have a shot at something even halfway near normal.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Darcy had started, her voice slamming into his ear over the new Stark phone she’d given him. 

He was rapidly learning that if she used his full name, he better fucking pay attention. 

“Sometimes you are no better than Cappy, you know that?” If that was Stevie’s new nickname he was going to die laughing, he thought as she continued. “If you are trying to tell me that you will do all the heavy lifting in this relationship, then I am here to let you know that you and your alter ego picked the wrong life partner, dude. Or is it dudes? I’m gonna add that to my list of questions for Sam. Do you integrate the Soldier part, or do you dissociate? Which is better for healing?” 

“Doll,” he broke in with a sigh.

“Right, right, back to the point, which is that you are not alone in this shit, not on my watch. Hey, what did you think of him by the way? I get the honor of his presence this morning, and I’m fucking pumped, let me tell ya. I already have a color-coded binder of rehabilitation techniques that I will be reviewing with Samuel, in _detail_ , before any craziness begins, and you will just have to accept it. We are going to _own_ this thing, dude. I told you we were a team, and I meant it, and you just have to get on board because you don’t have any other fucking choice.”

He’d cracked a grin, rolled his eyes, and said “okay, doll,” because there really wasn’t a whole lot left to say after that. “Take it easy on Wilson, he seems like a nice enough fella.”

“Take it easy on Wilson? Puh-lease. He better not try any shit, because I have been to the Google School of Psychiatry, and I’m not letting one fucking thing slide by unless we are totally comfortable with it. I have-“ she’d rambled on about therapies and the pros and cons of this one and that one until she told him that _he_ talked to much and she had work to do, so he should just go be pretty and do whatever he wanted to do with his morning.

God, how she reminded him of what he could remember of his ma.

Darcy was a spitfire, vibrant and vivacious and bursting with color and _life_. So much life he could drown himself in it. So much fire he felt like he’d burn if he got to close to her. 

He wanted to fucking burn, if it meant he could bask in that for even a second before it fizzled out.

He wasn’t good enough for her, that was abundantly clear, and not a thing anyone did or said was gonna change that fact. He didn’t deserve her, but for once, he resolved to just be okay with that. Maybe, just maybe, he could light her up even a tiny bit as much as she sparked him.

To do that, he needed to acclimate, find his new normal. So here he was, down in Banner’s lab. There were so many wires hooked up to him he felt more machine than man at the moment. Images were flashing in front of him, and he was calling out the name of the object before another took its place. 

“This one?” Bruce’s voice floated around him while the picture of a beach ball flashed on the screen.

“Beach ball. Are we fucking finished yet?” He growled. They were over a hundred in already and he was exhausted.

Bruce just chuckled, clicking to advance to the next image. He swallowed hard. It was a black lace bra and some kind of scrap that must now pass for panties. 

“Ah, damnit. Tony! Were you messing with my flash cards again?” James heard Bruce yelling down the hall while he quickly shut off the screen. He couldn’t get the image of the lingerie set out of his mind, and found himself wondering what Darcy would look like in it. 

His mind drifted back to silk stockings that road high on the thighs, silk teddies with ties on the shoulders, victory rolls, full red lips.

God damn, he’d do whatever he had to if he could see Darcy like that.

Which brought him back to what Darcy had looked like yesterday, in her cat shirt and sweatpants. Yoga pants. That’s what she’d called them. He’d had to fight to keep himself in check when he walked behind her. 

God _damn_.

Suddenly wires were being pulled off, and he realized Bruce must have been speaking to him, when he heard him say “well?” twice. James shook his head, mind still stuck on yoga pants and Darcy Lewis with a victory roll curling her hair before he sat up to look over at Bruce. “What was that again?”

Bruce sighed, unplugging the last few electrodes. “Did the cards spark anything? Any memories at all?” 

He shook his head, frowning. “No. Ah, fuck, that ain’t right. I, uh, remembered a bit from the last one. Plus, I did get a few flashes this morning talking to Darcy.”

Bruce mumbled _fucking Tony_ as he clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t get discouraged about the memories, things may or may not come back, and we have no idea how long it could take. You’re doing a great job. I’m not surprised to hear Darcy sparked a few, though. Based on my limited experience with her so far, I’m pretty sure she will drag them out of you whether you want her to or not.”

James barked out a laugh and nodded back as he headed out the door, making his way to the elevator and pushing the button to his floor. “Hey,” Bruce called behind him, making him pause. “Good luck later, with Sam. He’s a good guy.” 

James gave him a nod as he stepped in the elevator. “Thanks. Just hope there’s something left of him by the time Darcy is done with him.” Bruce’s laugh met his ears as the doors closed.

~*~

“Hi there! You must be the famous Sam Wilson.” Darcy said carefully as she swept into the conference room lugging a chain of white boards behind her, a giant bag stuffed to the brim with binders and handouts slung over her shoulder, and a big box of donut holes clutched in between her front teeth.

Sam laughed and came around, neatly taking the donut holes from her and setting them on the conference table. He popped on in his mouth and helped her line up the boards in front of the windows. “Yes, yes I am! You must be the famous Darcy Lewis.”

“The one and only,” Darcy said with a grin. 

“I must say, I’m not sure what I expected, but I don’t think this was it. I had thought we were just reviewing Sergeant Barnes’ treatment recommendations?”

Darcy started to slap up printouts on each board, sticky notes and pictures and lists clustering around in little circles. There was something so deeply satisfying in an organized whiteboard. “Why you are correct, Sam-bam-thank-you-ma’am. We most definitely are reviewing Sergeant Barnes’ treatment recommendations, as well as each and every question I have after I took a google crash course overnight.”

“You put all this together overnight?”

“I know, I know, I’m the fucking woman, am I right? You see,” Darcy continued as she popped a strawberry donut hole in her mouth, “I told the big guy we were going to rock this shit, and let me tell you up front, I abso-fucking-lutely meant it. I hope you’re prepared, Sam-aram, because I have a long list of questions, a lot of ideas, and more than a few demands, and these ones better be met, ya feel me?”

He had a nice, easy laugh, and Darcy was thrilled that rather than looking put off, he seemed energized as he scanned the boards. “I got ‘chu, girl,” he said with an exaggerated accent, both of them cracking up as she continued to set up her boards.

 

Sam might be an honorary member of the Sisterhood of the Badass Warrior Women, Darcy could tell.

Ehhh, she needed a better name for them. She’d have to ask Natasha and Jane. Their first sisterhood activity! 

Darcy grinned so wide her cheeks hurt when Sam made a few notes on the board sheets and slapped up a few stickies of his own.

Darcy pointedly pretended to miss the look of surprise Sam gave her when Steve, Tony, and Natasha all joined them in the conference room. “Darcy, Sam, what’s all this?” Steve asked in confusion.

With a flourish, Darcy slapped the last of her diagrams to the middle board. “Take a seat, boys and girls, and feast your eyes on this beauty.”

“The JBB Rehabilitation Motherload, cute, Darcy,” Natasha read with a smile. 

“I was going to name it the Plan to End All Fucking Plans, but I thought that may be a mouthful for _someone_ in this room,” she quipped with a grin, eyeing Steve’s flush. 

All three of the whiteboards were covered with notes, ideas, pictures, and lists, surrounding topics like: _Music Makes the Man_ (Music Therapy); _Keep Me Cozy and I Will Try Not To Kill You_ (Apartment Needs); _I Eat What I Want When I Want_ (Nutrition); _Washboard Abs, and Where to Find Them_ (Exercise); _I’m the Man and Have the Arm to Prove It Bitches_ (Arm Callibration/Modifications); _Memories, Baby_ (Amnesia Therapy Approaches); _Life Ain’t All That Bad_ (Cognitive Processing Therapy); _Everybody’s Got Triggers Mine Are Just Kinda Scary and in Russian_ (Prolonged Exposure Therapy); and so on and so forth.

“Taylor Swift’s Shake it Off, really, Lewis? Gonna subject the guy to that? He killed my parents and even I wouldn’t do that to him,” Tony said with a small smile as he read the ‘I’m Sergeant Barnes, I’m Fucking Awesome, and I Know It Playlist’ under _Music Makes the Man_. 

“Well, I can see I’ll be out of a job soon,” Sam said with a grin. “How long did it take you to put all this together?”

Darcy gave a shrug, but the big bags and slightly crazed look in her eyes probably told a different story. “Who needs sleep? Now! Please hold your applause until the end, we have a lot to get through people, and we don’t have that much time for questions. You know, time is money, or whatever. First up- Keep Me Cozy and I will Try Not to Kill You!”

Tony clapped his hands “ooo, this one is for me, I just know it!”

~*~

“Holy guacamole, can you believe this place?” Darcy said as they both walked a little wide-eyed into their new suite. 

He let out a whistle in response, his eyes scanning the fanciest apartment he’d ever seen in his life. They were the last door on the left, and he’d been surprisingly pleased that Darcy had thought to make sure Wilson and Steve were both on their floor for quick resources if he needed it. They had their own living room and an industrial sized kitchen, with the open floor plan leaving a dining room table floating in between. There were three doors in the back of the living room, and upon further inspection the left led into Darcy’s room, the right into his, and the middle into an adjoining bathroom with a walk-in shower, jacuzzi tub, and more black marble than he’d seen in his entire life. 

All the lighting was voice activated with different settings for different levels, and the can lights had been swapped out with warm bulbs, because as Darcy had informed him, the bright lights were probably a major factor in his migraines. The walls were all painted in cool blue tones, because apparently those were soothing colors, and made a place feel more homey, comfortable, and calming.

“Aw, fuck, Tony really? Do men not realize there are other colors besides black?” Darcy groaned as she walked into the bathroom behind him. 

He chuckled when he heard her start giving out a list of what she called requested changes, but which he knew to be demands, to Jarvis, the robot voice that was apparently accessible in any room in the tower. 

Apparently, Darcy had wanted a specific shade of blue paint for her walls, and the ‘brightest, most obnoxious, literally the loudest, Jarvis’ throw pillows he could find for their living room.

She needed three more of the fluffiest blankets New York had to offer for their couch, because according to Darcy, a couch was not a couch if it didn’t have enough blankets you could build a fort. 

She also had a long, long, _long_ list of demands for the kitchen. “I told that fucker Gordon Ramsey needed to weep over our kitchen. Do you think Gordon will be crying over Teflon pans? No Jarvis, the answer is no. Do you think Gordon will be crying over this basic butcher’s block that doesn’t even include the fifteen specialty knives that were on my list?”

“I would hazard to guess no, Darcy,” Jarvis responded dryly. 

He almost felt bad for Jarvis.

He’d tried to tell her he didn’t need this much space and even half of that much stuff, and was told in no uncertain terms that “unless you’re volunteering for doing all the cooking, buddy, I’d just keep my mouth shut if I were you.”

His heart warmed as he watched Darcy bustle around the apartment, rearranging all of the furniture to ‘improve the flow’ and unpacking brand new crockery, utensils and other knick knacks, slowly turning the suite into more of a home. 

He wondered about Darcy, about this bond they had. She felt it when his temper flared up when Tony had popped into their living room to argue over kitchen appliances with Darcy. 

Without even a thought, he’d growled how if Darcy wanted it, she could fucking have it, and Tony had tossed a rolled up napkin at him and told him there was no need to ‘Get all Wintery up in here’ as he debated the practicalities of heated tile flooring through the entire apartment and not just in the bathroom.

“Jarvis, did you read the reference sheet I specifically asked you to give to Tony every hour, on the hour, until he made the changes?” 

“Yes, Darcy, which is why Mr. Stark is now in your living room.”

“Short stack, not even my penthouse has heated tiles all the way through.”

“I don’t recall asking what _you_ like, Tin Man, I recall telling you what the big guy _needs_. Super soldiers get cold feet! He shouldn’t have to wear socks all the time! Make the fucking change, Tony! Heated floors. I told you, we are doing this thing _right_.”

A guy could get used to a dame like Darcy Lewis, that was for damn sure.

~*~

After another night of no sleep and sitting with his back to the wall in the corner of the room, he was willing to admit he was looking forward to Darcy moving into the tower later that day. 

The floors were changed yesterday afternoon after she left in a whirlwind, but even with the heat seeping up to warm his feet, wrapped in one of the softest blankets he’d ever felt, he was still chilled to the bone without her around, lost in his mind and a little afraid.

He should be ashamed at how much he already needed Darcy, but he was too fucking desperate to care. 

Just as the sun started to filter in the open windows, music blasted at him from the ceiling.

At least, he thought it was music.

What the fuck did kids listen to these days?

_“I'm the man, come round_  
No-no-nothing can break, no-nothing can break me down  
I'm the man, come round and  
No-no-nothing can break, you can't break me down 

_I got gas in the tank_  
I got money in the bank  
I got news for you baby, you're looking at the man” 

When it hit the chorus, he wasn’t even ashamed to admit he put a little dance in his hips as he made a cup of coffee.

Until a few songs later, after his second cup of coffee, when some woman started singing about how _“I’m every woman, it’s all in me.”_

“Jarvis, what is this, seriously?” He groused, marching to the shower.

“Changing the song immediately, Sergeant Barnes.”

“What are you even playing?”

“I was instructed by Darcy to begin the ‘I’m Sergeant Barnes, I’m Fucking Awesome, and I Know It Playlist’, and I quote, _whenever he fucking wakes up, Jarvis, Jesus, I don’t know what time._ ” 

He laughed as he stood in the shower. “Okay, well take that song off the list, will ya?”

“Consider it done, Sergeant Barnes. Would you like for me to leave the rest of the songs, and continue this playlist as part of your morning routine?”

He felt his mood lifting with the beat and some song Jarvis said was the _Dog Days are over_ , by Florence + the Machine, and couldn’t help but answer, “yeah, Jarvis, the playlist would be fine. Maybe add some other songs along the same line, I got a lotta catching up to do.”

“Very good, Sergeant Barnes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs referenced in this chapter include The Man, by the Killers; I'm Every Woman, by Chaka Khan; Dog Days are Over, by Florence + The Machine. I italicized any borrowed lyrics, those clearly aren't my own.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you missed it, Chapter 7 was posted yesterday! :)

Darcy was lugging the last of her boxes through the lobby when Steve rushed out to greet her, taking it out of her hands with all his super-soldiery strength, casually resting his palm on the small of her back as he escorted her to the elevator that led up to the private floors. “Sooo, how are things?” She asked casually as she stuck her face in front of the retina scanner.

“Things are well, how are you doing, Darcy?” He responded politely. 

“Oh, ya know, as well as can be expected.”

The ensuing silence was deafening.

Literally, it was so quiet Darcy was pretty sure Cappy just heard her swallow.

Oh my fucking god, someone say something.

Should she say something?

Was he going to say something?

This was without a doubt the most awkward moment in her entire life, and she would swear to fucking Odin that Jarvis was deliberately drawing it out and moving the elevator slower than molasses.

Oh my _fuck_ what the _fuck_ this was so _awkward_ and-

“So,” Steve began right as she said “Right.”

They both shared an uncomfortable grin and each motioned for the other to continue, because of course Cappy had the manners of a Saint, and of course she hadn’t even known what to say she just had to say _something_.

Oh my god.

This could not be her life for all of eternity or whatever, she fucking _refused_.

Cappy was Sharky’s BFF, and as such he needed to be her BFF too, because she was not going to live her life mutely awkward around Captain America.

“What do you say to a team bonding night?” She burst out, shooting a big smile that she hoped was more of a smile, because it sure as hell felt like it had a bit of a grimace to it, too.

Steve smiled gratefully, a real, genuine smile, and Darcy realized why every girl in the country suddenly wanted to become the Mrs. America to his Mr. “I think that’s a great idea.” 

“Tomorrow?” She asked as the elevator finally, _finally_ , opened on their floor. 

She was going to have words with the J-man later, because that manipulative bullshit was fucking unacceptable.

Steve walked beside her until they were in front of her and Barnes’ place, watching her with a puzzled expression on his face. 

She was used to that expression. She’d gotten it pretty much every day growing up from both of her parents.

“Sure, Darcy. I’ll have Stark set it up. Maybe in the common room on seventy-five?”

Darcy flashed her biggest, winning-est smile as she grabbed the box and swung open the door behind her. “It’s a date, mon Capitan!”

“Yeah,” she heard him say as she turned and hauled the box into the empty living room.

~*~

“What do you mean you don’t want to host it, it was your idea Lewis,” Tony whined out of her ceiling as Darcy unpacked her books onto the bookshelf in the living room. 

“You cannot seriously be asking me to host a party the day after I move in? What the fuck is wrong with you, bro? Were you raised in your pet pony’s barn?”

“Yes, Darcy, he has no manners, which is why he has me. Of course you don’t need to host, Tony would be happy to. I’d join you but I have a board meeting. He’ll see you Sergeant Barnes, and any others in-residence tomorrow night, around seven? I’ll order plenty of pizza and, knowing Tony, there will be plenty of booze,” Pepper cut in.

Darcy thought that Pepper deserved a fucking medal for putting up with Tony fucking Stark. 

“Yes! That is more like it. As a gesture of good will, I’ll even bring cupcakes,” she called out, stacking the J.K. Rowling books reverently in order on the top shelf.

“There better be sprinkles, or you shouldn’t even bother coming,” Tony complained, as Pepper laughed and said she was looking forward to it.

Sprinkles, huh? 

Darcy Lewis did not back down from a challenge. There would be so many sprinkles they’d be more sprinkle than cupcake, by the time she was done with them.

~*~

The day flew by in a whirlwind of unpacking and baking tray after tray of cupcakes, because who the fuck knew how many the _Avengers_ could throw back, until it was nearly eight and Darcy realized she hadn’t seen Sharky all day. She’d assumed he was busy with Bruce or Sam, but it was getting awfully late, so she probably should have checked on him, now that she thought about it. At least she hadn’t felt any overwhelming rage or anything, that was a good sign, right?

Probably.

Oh fuck, had she already botched this security blanket thing, less than a week into it?!

“J-man, where’s the big guy?”

“Sergeant Barnes is currently sitting in his room staring out the window, Darcy.”

Her head whipped around so fast it gave her a stinging sensation, and she howled as she tripped over her own feet while approaching his closed door. 

To knock, or not to knock?

He’d been in their all _day_ and she hadn’t even realized?

Oh, fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck _fuck_.

“Do I knock?” She said quietly, frozen in front of the closed door.

“I would recommend doing so, Darcy,” Jarvis said quietly.

Well, no one said it needed to be an ominous knock. Maybe try for peppy? Was she supposed to acknowledge the fact that he’d been in his room the entire day and she hadn’t even realized? 

An upbeat knock, that’s what she was going with. Just as she raised her fist, she heard him call out. “Just come in, Darcy, I’ve heard you mumbling to yourself for the past five minutes.”

Oh, _fuck_. 

Darcy swung the door open and strode into the room, quickly noting that it looked like he hadn’t even touched the bed, instead sitting in a chair staring out the window watching all the lights of the city alive below them. 

What to say? What to say what to say oh my _god_ she had no idea what to _say_ and the poor many was just sitting there and hadn’t even looked at her once.

She thought back over all the internet resources she’d scanned and remembered one blogger who said her husband responded better if she aimed for casual and let him open up on his own time, at his own pace. 

Casual. Darcy could do casual. She could be so casual she’d, like, win a fucking award for how casual she was.

Oh, fuck. “How’s it going, big guy?”

He shrugged, a careful lift of shoulders under one of the thick cream blankets Jarvis had procured. 

He looked sad, and so, so tired, and Darcy felt like the biggest asshat in the world that he’d been here all day and she hadn’t even realized.

“Listen, Sarg, I’m so sorry about today,” she started before he cut her off with a shake of his head. His eyes never moved from the cars below them. 

“ S’alright, doll, not your job to worry about my shit.”

She was the worst life partner ever. How had she fucked this up so royally on literally their first night living together?

And how the fuck was she going to fix it?

“Heard about the party. That somethin’ ya want us both to go to?”

Darcy swallowed hard and smiled at the back of his head. And then realized she hadn’t even fucking _asked him first_.

Shit, shit on a fucking _stick_ , she needed to meet with Sam again. “Yeah, buddy, I think it would be a lot of fun. You interested? Sorry I didn’t ask you first.”

He shrugged again, but finally turned to give her a glance over his shoulder. “Whatever you want, doll.”

Well, that wasn’t exactly the most encouraging answer, but it wasn’t really a _no_ either so she’d fucking take it and just see how the day went. “Great! We can play it by ear but it sounds like it’ll be a good time, and there will be pizza and booze and I’ve made my grandma’s chocolate cupcakes, and, let me tell you, those bad boys are worth going for all on their own. Hey, you hungry? I just realized I never ate dinner, and I have been dying to try out the takeout system Tony has installed.”

“I could eat,” he offered quietly, his large body unfolding out of the chair to stand in front of the window, still huddled under the blanket. 

It was a good decision to ask Jarvis to order an extra-large blanket, though at the time she was thinking they’d both be able to share it. She was going to have to adjust her sizing when it came to him, that was for damn sure.

“Awesome! So, how do you feel about Indian food? Because some garlic naan is just about calling my name right now, and I want to eat so much I have to roll myself to bed, if you know what I mean.”

She didn’t get a chuckle like she’d hoped for, but his eyes were a little less blank when he followed her into the kitchen, and he scanned the menu she pulled up on her Starkpad. “Whatever you want, doll.”

“You are going to regret that, Sharky, because what I want is like ten pounds of chicken tikka masala, plus more for lunch tomorrow.” 

Still no laugh, but Darcy felt her heart flip over when the corner of his lips tugged into a reluctant little smile. 

~*~

Stuffed to the brim with more curry than she ever should have eaten, Darcy was still babbling about her misadventures in New Mexico with Jane while they watched the street below out of their living room windows. He’d barely said more than few words, but she’d been able to tug a few more tiny smiles out of him, and he was a little less pale now that he’d eaten four helpings of curry and two baskets of naan. 

She was more than a little envious of his super soldier metabolism.

A huge yawn popped out before she could smother it, and his eyes narrowed as he flicked his gaze from the window over to her face. “You can go to bed, doll.” 

With Sam’s advice to let him set the pace of their budding little friendship firmly in mind, Darcy picked up their plates and headed to the dishwasher, calling over her shoulder. “I think I may do that, pal. Will you get the lights before you go to sleep?”

He just shrugged and turned back to the window. 

Darcy decided to this was one of those times Sam said not to push him, and opted to simply give him a wave as she walked into the bathroom to get ready for bed. “Goodnight, big guy!” 

Just as the door was shutting she heard a quiet, “Night, doll.”

Twenty minutes later, Darcy was snuggled under the covers in her new king-sized bed, carefully listening to try to hear for any movement outside in the living room. The lights had turned off by the time she went into her room from the bathroom, but she was almost positive he was still out there, sitting in the dark.

Twenty minutes after _that_ , and after a quick confirmation from Jarvis, Darcy decided maybe this was actually a great time to push a little bit, after all.

She crawled out of bed and quietly opened the door, scanning the room until she found him huddled in the corner in an arm chair, facing their front door, still bundled under his blanket. “Not tired yet?”

His eyes were hidden in shadows, but she saw another little shrug. 

She almost opened her big fat mouth until it hit her like a lightning bolt from Thor that he was keeping watch.

In their apartment.

So she could sleep.

Darcy wasn’t sure if she was going to hug him or if she was going to burst into tears. Maybe both, simultaneously.

Which was absolutely unacceptable.

He didn’t need tears, she told herself firmly as she ducked back into her room for a minute.

Darcy pointedly ignored the ones rolling down her cheeks as she quickly wiped her eyes and sent a series of rapid fire texts to Sam. He would know what to do.

**Darcy: He’s keeping watch, and I don’t think he’s slept in days because he looks so tired and I’m pretty sure he’s done this since he moved in and I don’t know what to do. What do I do, Sam-bam?**

“Come on, come on,” she mumbled impatiently before doing a little dance when the “…” bubble popped up on the text screen.

**Sam-The-Man: Want me to come down?**

Darcy bit her lip and debated.

**Darcy: Honestly, yes, but at the same time I feel like this is an important moment in our… partnership, and I feel like if I don’t handle this one right I’m letting him down. A lot of fucking pressure when it doesn’t need it, I know that, but I need to do this. But I am woman, Sam, and right now I’m in way over my fucking head, so I need a little bit of help to do this right.**

**Sam-The-Man: Breathe, Darcy.**

**Sam-The-Man: You can handle this one, I know you can. All you need to do is let him lead, remember? You just breathe.**

**Darcy: Breathing, breathing, sigh, sigh. OK, if you were here, what would you do?**

**Sam-The-Man: I’d sit with him. If he wanted to talk we’d talk. If he wanted to watch the door we’d watch the door.**

**Darcy: I can watch the door.**

**Sam-The-Man: I know you can. You’ve got this.**

**Darcy: Remind me to hug you tomorrow.**

**Sam-The-Man: Can’t wait to hear about your success in the morning. He’s meeting with me at nine, drop by for a few minutes earlier if you can swing it.**

**Darcy: Anything for you.**

**Sam-The-Man: Quit stalling, take another breath, and get out there gurl. ; )**

Fuck being an honorary member, Sam was going to be a fucking founder of the Sisterhood. 

~*~

He settled in a little more into his chair, eyes scanning the room repeatedly, ears straining as he heard a quiet _tap tap tap_ in Darcy’s room. 

He took stock of what he knew and felt, trying to slow his breathing like Sam had taught him. Trying to stay _present_.

He felt… full. Dinner was good. He learned he really liked coating the bread, _naan_ , in the sauce. 

He felt… anxious. There were so many people outside the window. Where were they all going? What were they all doing? What was it like walking your dog in the rain? Why did that woman have so many shopping bags? How many times had the taxi with a slight dent on the front bumper circled the block? How come the lights always switched after two minutes and forty-five seconds, until the one time it was two minutes and forty-six?

He felt… cold. He was cold. His feet were warm, he had Darcy to thank for that. But he was still shivering a bit under the fluffy blanket.

He felt- what was she doing now?

He could hear the slide of sheets, followed by bare feet padding across the floor, before her door swung open again. 

She didn’t even spare him a glance, and he watched with interest as she strolled into the kitchen, flipped on a little light, and started preparing something on the stove. She was wrapped in a fluffy blanket of her own, her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail, her feet tapping along to a beat he couldn’t hear. 

He felt happy, when he saw her. Like he was a little less alone. 

He watched as she puttered around, keeping her back to him so he couldn’t see what she was doing behind the giant blanket, when she took the whistling kettle off the burner. It should have made him more anxious, that he couldn’t see what was happening, couldn’t hear every little noise over the tune she was humming.

It didn’t.

He just felt curious, watching her back, the gentle sway of her hips, the bright red painted on her toenails, the sparkly pink on her fingers. She grabbed a handful of something under the cupboard before turning around with a flourish, two mugs and a handful of little sticks clutched tight as she made her way over.

She walked right up to him, still not meeting his eye, before she coughed out “a _hem_ ” and waved one of the mugs in front of him.

It was automatic, taking the cup from her, not even asking what was in it. He just stuck it between his metal and flesh hands, letting it warm him, watching her as she struggled to lug the matching armchair over next to his with her foot. “Not even gonna help me, I see how it is,” she mumbled, foot tugging and tugging, splashing a little of her mug over onto her blanket. “Oh, for fucks sake,” she huffed.

He bit back a little grin, watching as she manhandled the chair until it was tucked flush against his. She settled in, all wrapped up with her hands cupping her mug, and handed over half of her handful of little paper sticks.

“Pixie sticks,” she said triumphantly, still not meeting his eye. “I figure if we are keeping an eye on things, we need supplies, and let me tell you, buddy, snacks are my middle name.”

He didn’t say anything, but somehow, he felt a little of the anxiety soothe as he watched her start to watch the door, slowly sipping her mug.

Hot chocolate. It filtered through that he was smelling hot chocolate, made from scratch, with milk and real cocoa and a little pinch of cinnamon.

Just like his ma made.

He watched her carefully peel the paper of one of the little sticks before tossing it back like you would a shot, and he mirrored her movements, until he felt little explosions of sugar burst all over his tongue.

“I figured we probably shouldn’t take up smoking, like what they probably did during watches back in your day, but these little guys will do in a pinch.”

He watched her long leg pop out from under her blanket as she swing her foot around the leg of the nearby coffee table, and felt his lips tug into a small smile as she worked it over until it was in front of him. “Any rules where we can’t put our feet up on a stakeout?”

Darcy had this way of settling his nerves without making him feel like a dumbass. She made him feel like she totally agreed that they needed to watch the door to their room, in this insanely secure tower, in the middle of Manhattan. Like it was a mission. Like it was natural.

The rest of his anxiety melted away as he finished his cocoa, and he finished his sticks before he let out a big yawn. 

“You know, sugar always goes straight to my head. I’m probably going to be buzzing for a few more hours, if you want me to take the first shift?” 

He should say no.

This was his watch, after all. He should stay up, and let her sleep. He should send her back to her room. He was a fucking idiot, and this was not her problem. He’d been up for seventy-two and a half hours, what were a few more? 

Her small hand gently took the empty mug from him and set it down away from their feet on the coffee table, before she gently cupped his cybernetic hand in hers.

His last thought as his eyes fluttered shut was that even through his metal hand, she warmed him more than either the cocoa or the heated floors had, and he was no longer so cold.

~*~

“I need a peptalk, Sam-bam-thank-you-ma’am, and I need you to give it to me in the five minutes you have before you meet with my leading man.”

Darcy flopped onto the comfy couch in Sam’s new office with giant bags under her eyes, greedily clutching the insanely large mug of coffee, her third for the morning. 

His easy smile as he joined her settled some of her nerves, and he gently patted her knee as he sat beside her.

“Easy there, tiger. What happened last night once you went out to talk to him?” 

Darcy shrugged and filled him in quickly, on the hot chocolate and the pixie sticks and the stakeout, before she finished with another big gulp of her lifeblood, the only thing going for her this morning, an extra-large non-fat no-whip white chocolate mocha latte.

“And you say he actually slept, and even slept seemingly well?”

“Six straight hours without even a snore, until he popped up all of a sudden. I didn’t make any sudden movements, so after a few deep breathes he just squeezed my hand and told me he’d take the next shift, and I blearily made my way back into my room to crash, because my ass had fallen asleep on that uncomfortable little fucker Tony calls a cushion, let me tell ya.” 

He laughed as he gave her a friendly pat on the back. “I think you handled it perfectly. You’re doing a great job, Darcy, but even caregivers need to focus on themselves once in awhile. I’d like to meet with you twice a week, just to make sure you’re taking time for yourself, if that’s okay with you. You can’t help him if you’re not helping yourself.”

“I hear that,” she mumbled, flashing him a grateful smile. “Yes, a thousand yesses. But only if we get out of this damn tower.”

“Since you seem to enjoy coffee, and I can’t say no to a donut, how about coffee dates? Twice a week, we find a new cafe to try around the city, and take an hour to wander.”

“Done and done,” her smile was wide as she stood up quickly, knowing Sharky would be here soon. “Will we see you tonight at Tony’s party?”

“Sam Wilson does not miss a party, Darcy Lewis. Plus, I heard a rumor there may be chocolate cupcakes? What are the odds on vanilla?”

Her laugh echoed down the hall as she walked out the door backwards. “Darcy Lewis would say they’re pretty fucking good, Sam Wilson. Pretty fucking good, indeed!”

~*~

They were all gathered around the main common room, bottles of alcohol open as they celebrated. Tony had flat out insisted that everyone, including James, join in, and he found himself sitting in a circle with a glass of Scotch laughing and joking with the rest of them. He looked across the room and felt his heart flutter at the sight of Darcy with a glass of wine, cheeks tinted pink from the alcohol as she rested her hand on Bruce’s arm and laughed loudly at a story Natasha was telling about how he’d demolished Tony in some kind of smashing contest they’d had between Iron Man and the Hulk. 

That dame was so fucking beautiful it hurt. 

Tony’s shout startled him, and he watched with amusement as he summoned everyone over to lounge in a circle around the several couches and chairs where he sat now. Darcy refilled her glass, and as she picked her way over she scanned for an open seat, eyes suddenly meeting his. Most places were already taken, so with a smirk and a jerk of his head, he motioned for her to come over to him. 

Darcy strolled up, casually holding her very full glass of white wine as she tilted her head. “Yes, big boy? Need something?” 

Her voice was sultry and smooth, and he felt his cock twitch at the sound. 

Apparently, his dame didn’t do so well holding her alcohol.

He felt a fluttering of something stirring in him, and without thought he patted his thigh with his metal hand. “Have a seat, doll.” His smirk widened when he saw the heat flash in her gaze before she primly turned and sat on the arm of his chair, next to where he’d patted his lap. He shrugged, watching her with amusement. “Suit yourself.” He brought his metal hand up slowly to rest on the small of her back, thumb grazing the slip of skin showing where her silk top split at the top of her jeans to flow around her. He hummed in delight when he saw the goose bumps raise along her arms in response, and he watched as she shifted in her seat and deliberately kept her face turned away from him and toward the group. 

She wasn’t fooling him, not by a mile. He’d see the flush coloring the back of her neck even in the fucking dark.

~*~

“Well, what are we playing, Tony?” Darcy called across the room, ignoring the delicious feel of the metal fingers teasing across the small of her back. 

“How about, never have I ever?” 

She felt Sharky shift beside her in his seat, and she reached down to absentmindedly stroke his knee as she groaned. “While usually right up my alley, that is so far from appropriate it isn’t even funny, Tony, come on.”

“Uh, excuse me, short stack, but you made me host this party, so I get to pick the games.”

Darcy rolled her eyes but smiled as she saw Natasha do the same. “Fine, fine, but let’s keep in G-rated. Care to explain the game to all the grandpa’s in the room?”

Tony’s sly smile made her nervous as he explained that they would each take turns saying things they’ve never done, and if you’d done what someone said you had to take a sip of your drink. 

“I’m in,” Darcy heard the decidedly flirty super soldier behind her call out.

She turned suddenly to look back at him with a wry brow raised. She’d been practicing after seeing how fucking cool Natasha looked raising hers, and she knew she was getting somewhere when she didn’t have to say a thing as he just shrugged, his thumb continuing to play on her back. “Maybe it’ll spark something. If I can’t remember then I’ll just take a drink anyways or skip it.”

She bit her lip before nodding reluctantly. She had a bad feeling about where this game was going to go, but Darcy Lewis did not run away from trouble, no matter how loudly her inner ninja warrior assassin told her she probably should.

“I can tell you if you’ve done it or not, Bu- Barnes,” Steve called across the room.

Fucking Cappy. It wasn’t the first time she heard him accidentally on purpose start to call the big guy Bucky.

She knew how he must feel, she really did. But her and Sam both were in agreement that the last thing Barnes needed was unrealistic expectations that he magically mold back into who he was, rather than just plan dealing with and learning about who he is now.

Cappy needed to get on board or get off the fucking tracks, as far as she was concerned, because Darcy was driving this progress train and it wasn’t stopping for Cappy, that was for fucking certain.

She felt Sharky’s thumb go still above the waistband of her jeans with a slight pulse of anger. 

Fuck. 

The game hadn’t even started and Steve had already irritated him. She was trying to stay out of that landmine-filled relationship, so maybe distraction was the best policy this go-round. Darcy quickly slid down off the arm of his chair to sit on his massive thigh, bringing her hand to rest back on his chest. “How about, if you want to ask Steve you can, otherwise you just play along as you want to?”

Darcy gave him a look over her shoulder and saw his jaw clench as he nodded, no longer feeling the angry vibes he’d been throwing off. 

_Phew_. He was in control. The last thing this party needed was _that_ happening, or she’d never wrangle everyone into another team night again.

Sharky nodded once before giving her a tiny smile. He was okay. 

Darcy leaned and bumped her shoulder against his chest before turning in his lap to face the group, and she felt him bring his metal hand to rest on her hip. “Who’s first?”

“I’ll go, I’ll go! It’s my party!” Tony whined from her left. She saw Natasha roll her eyes as she called for him to go on then.

“Never have I ever been a super soldier.”

Darcy snorted and turned to see Sharky shake his head and roll his eyes as he took a drink. He tilted his head and gently squeezed her hip. 

When she turned, she saw Steve motion for him to go. The spark in Sharky’s eyes was a little bit devious, and a lotta bit sexy as _fuck_. 

“Never have I ever flown around in a tin can,” he rumbled with a smirk. Darcy burst into a giggle and smiled wide as she heard Tony grumble and take a swig while he complained that his suit wasn’t even made from tin and it was high-tech and all that. 

“You’re turn, kiddo,” Tony nodded for her to go.

Darcy bit her lip, eyes scanning around the room. “Ummm… I don’t know. Never have I ever… been on a cruise.”

“Borrringgg,” Tony rolled his eyes as he took another swig. Darcy saw Natasha, Steve, and Sam take one as well. 

They game continued, and after another two glasses of wine Darcy forgot why it was a bad idea when it got racier and racier as they went.

It was Tony’s turn again, and he was looking at her shrewdly as he raised his glass. “Never have I ever kissed a super soldier.”

Darcy flushed but stuck her tongue out at him, before turning in surprise to see Nat take a sip and wink over at Steve, who was redder than a tomato. She laughed in surprise, “Seriously?!”

“It was part of a mission,” he grumbled, shifting in his seat and keeping his eyes on his glass.

The big metal hand wrapped around her hip squeezed again, and she shifted on his thigh to look over her shoulder at him. “Never have I ever kissed a guy.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, smiling as she took a sip and saw both Nat _and_ Sam take a sip. “What, I was curious?!” He huffed with a smile, and Darcy giggled as she settled back further onto James’ lap. 

“Hmm… Never have I ever had a threesome,” she said slyly, laughing as Tony shot her a stunned expression and mumbled about how he didn’t know how anyone could live without experiencing it. Darcy shrugged with amusement and watched Natasha and Sam take sips, before seeing Steve grin widely at James. “Drink up, man.”

Her jaw dropped as she turned in her seat to look at Sharky, and he smiled widely as he took a drink. “Wish I could remember that,” he teased as she narrowed her eyes and tried to bite back her smile. 

She pointedly ignored the heat she knew was blooming all over her cheeks, and decided that four glasses of wine may have been a tad too many for this game.

Sam looked around before shooting everyone a sly smile. “Never have I ever had sex in a public place.”

Darcy felt her cheeks heat as she took a sip of wine, giggling when she felt James pinch her hip in surprise. He leaned up behind her, and she felt the hard planes of his chest press into her back as he placed his lips right behind her ear. “Naughty girl,” he rumbled deeply, sending shivers down her spine. 

Darcy smirked and wiggled in his lap, refusing to turn her head towards him while he leaned back in his chair, metal hand now resting on the upper curve of her ass. 

She was definitely not buzzed enough to wish that hand would just slide around her front and down into her pants.

She was _not_.

Bruce tilted his head and turned to look straight at Natasha. “Never have I ever had sex on a plane.”

Darcy giggled as she saw Natasha, Sam, Tony, and even Steve take swigs of their drinks, before turning to look at James with eyebrows raised as he tilted his head in question at Steve. 

Steve laughed, smiling wide. “Drink again, Buck.” He was raising his glass to his lips when his gaze hardened and he froze, body tighter than Hawkeye’s bow, metal hand digging into her hip while his flesh hand tightened around the glass.

“For the love of fuck, Steve,” Darcy admonished over her shoulder, voice hard in warning. 

Apparently, Cappy had also had one too many drinks this evening, because he decided this was the perfect time for them to have the fight she’d known was coming eventually.

Steve just snorted, shaking his head. “No! It’s his name! You go around acting like you know him, like you know what he likes and he doesn’t, but you don’t know anything about him!”

The glass in Sharky’s hand shattered, splintering into a thousand tiny pieces as he crushed it in his fist. 

One million, thousand things. Darcy had one million, billion thousand fucking things she wanted to say to Cappy right about now, but she swallowed them down and instead gently turned in James’ lap, setting her glass down on the side table before taking hold of his face. He tried to turn his head away but she held on, leaning down to meet his eyes. “Look at me, Sharky,” she whispered softly, bringing his eyes up to hers. “How about we blow this popsicle stand, head back to our room, and get your hand cleaned up? I’ll even let you have a pixie stick, what do you say?” 

She flashed him an encouraging smile and watched as he bit down on the inside of his lip before turning to look at his hand. Blood was trickling down out of his curled fingers, dripping down to pool on the hardwood floor. He nodded, long hair drifting down to cover his face as she stood up and reached down, taking a hold of his metal hand between both of hers and leading him to the door. “Right well, it’s about time for me to disappear before I turn into a pumpkin, or whatever, so uh, see you kids later!” Darcy called over her shoulder as they made their way out of the door and down the hall to the elevator.

She might have shot a billion daggers through her eyes at Cappy in the process. 

James kept his balled fist close to his chest as he let her lead them into their room and towards their bathroom. She gently pushed him to sit against the counter while she took hold of his injured hand and cradled it in front of her. She pried his fingers open and gasped at the little slivers of glass poking out of his flesh. “Oh, Sharky,” she sighed softly, before turning to pick up a wash cloth and starting to run the faucet. 

He shrugged uncomfortably, shifting his broad shoulders. “It doesn’t hurt much,” he mumbled, voice low.

She smiled wryly as she gently started to pull the wash cloth over his palm, working out slivers of glass. “Yeah, yeah, and Tony isn’t the biggest pain in the ass anyone has ever met. Let’s cut the bullshit for the evening, big guy.”

He snorted, and she felt some of the anger melt out of him as she gently rinsed away the last of the glass. “You don’t need stitches, but I want to put some antiseptic on it and wrap it in a bandage for tonight.”

He shrugged again, tilting his head to watch her as she pulled things out of a first aid kit she’d gotten from under the counter. “You don’t need to do that, it’ll be mostly healed by the morning.”

Darcy pressed her lips together and shot him a playful glare. “James Buchanan Barnes, who said anything I was doing, I was doing for you? It makes _me_ feel better, so how about you just let me be selfish for awhile.”

He brought his metal hand up to ghost his fingers across her cheek, brushing the hair out of her eyes. “Okay, doll,” he said softly.

Darcy tucked in the last of the bandage before once again cradling his hand in both of hers. She traced a finger over the bandages on his palm before slowly bringing his hand up to her face. She felt her heart pound as she leaned and pressed a kiss into the palm of his hand. “Better?” She whispered, tilting her head to look at him under her lashes.

His eyes were dark as he watched her, and she felt heat roll over her. “Better,” he agreed, voice thick and husky. 

Darcy bit her lip before she did something stupid like launch herself at his face and kiss him until he couldn’t even fucking breathe.

She dropped his hand like it burned when she felt another wave of heat roll over her, and stepping away from the counter so fast she almost fell in the fucking tub like a lunatic. “Uh, righty-oh, neighbor. Oh god, that sounded stupid. Uh, anyways, I’m sure that you’ll be good, so uh, okay then… Okay… Do we need to keep watch tonight?” 

A tiny shake of his head no, but he didn’t interrupt her, and he was watching her with a look she was too afraid to puzzle out as she backed out of the room like the biggest fucking idiot in the world. “Oh, cool! Okay then, well, you know, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite, not like Tony has bed bugs but uh, yeah, sooooo. goodnight, Sharky,” she finished, backing into her own room.

She was two inches from being in the clear when his metal hand snaked out to wrap around her thin wrist and pull her lightly back towards him. He stood from the counter, towering over her as he raised his bandaged palm up to tenderly cup her face. Darcy felt her breathing become ragged and her pulse quicken as she watched him with wide eyes while he slowly brought his head down towards hers. Her eyes drifted shut and she turned her head up in response. 

Oh my _Thor_ , he was going to kiss her, and it was going to be their first kiss, and yeah there was a lot of sexual fucking tension but were they ready for that? Was he? 

Fuck, was she?

Oh, who was she kidding. Darcy was ready to throw down the minute they danced in that stupid fucking cabin.

After a few seconds that could have been fucking _hours_ Darcy _finally_ felt his soft lips press gently against her cheek, before he was pulling away and leaning forward to whisper into her ear, breath fluttering her hair as he breathed, “Goodnight, Darcy.” 

Well, damn her to Asgard if he didn’t sound like every fucking fantasy of her fucking _dreams_. She’d barely fluttered her eyes back open before he was pulling away, turning on his boot and leaving the bathroom to softly shut the door to his room behind him.

Darcy gripped the counter so tight she thought it may crack (ha ha, who was she kidding) as she took a few deep breaths and tried to slow her heart. She swallowed hard and chuckled a bit as she saw her hands shake in the mirror.

There were a lot of things Darcy regretted in life, and an entire fuck-ton of decisions she’d made that she later wished she could take back.

Bonding with James Buchanan Barnes was not one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me over Steve, I promise that one will be resolved very very soon!!!
> 
> THANK YOU to everyone who is following along, leaving kudos, and commenting on this story! You all rock! I thought I had the whole thing finished, but a few thousand words seem to be added every chapter now as more ideas come based on your comments. You guys are the best.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I'll be able to push another chapter out this week, so I've made this one extra long! :) Enjoy <3

Darcy inhaled the heady scent wafting up from her cinnamon mocha latte and tried to calm her nerves. She was in the little coffee shop three blocks down from Stark Tower ( _Avengers_ Tower, Lewis, her inner Tony corrected) for the second time in three hours, waiting for Cappy to grace her with his All-American presence. 

Darcy and Sam had wandered in here earlier this morning when she needed to de-brief and donut-up after the previous night’s fiasco involving one Steven Rogers and his insistent need to remind one James Buchanan Barnes about his past.

“I don’t understand why he can’t just let this shit go though, Sammy,” Darcy had whined as they waited in line and perused the sweets behind the glass counter. 

She wondered if anyone else could hear that pumpkin cream cheese muffin whispering _pick me, Darcy, pick me_!

Sam very carefully hadn’t looked at her, she noted, when he shrugged and replied, “would you let it go, if it were Jane? Say she picked Steve over you, and on top of that decided she’d rather go by Janet, instead?”

Darcy burst out laughing at that. _Janet_. “Puh-lease, she would never-“

Darcy gaped. Oh sweet Frigga, she was such an idiot.

There weren’t many times in her life when Darcy found herself speechless. This had been one of them.

She wanted to zap herself with her own fucking taser. Of _course_ she wouldn’t let it go if it were Jane, and she’d picked rando Steve over Darcy, her best fucking friend.

_Was_ she Janey’s best friend? She liked to think so. Jane was certainly hers, though to be honest Natasha was the embodiment of her ninja assassin warrior goddess come to life, so she just might bump Jane out of the lead if they became actual friends. 

Sam cleared his throat and raised his eyebrow while shooting her a pointed look that probably meant _I see you wandering, get back on track_.

Darcy sighed. Of course she’d be pissed if Jane went by Janet and joined herself to Steve. She couldn’t even fucking imagine, actually, what it would be like to think Jane had died and then, all of a sudden, she just popped back up and oh, by the way, fucking hated Darcy out of nowhere.

With everything down to even her _name_ both eerily the same yet so, so different all at the same damn time.

Though, picturing Jane as a super assassin was a little hilarious in its own right, but that wasn’t the point.

Holy fucking shitballs. She was such an idiot.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Sam had said quietly.

As Sam was a founder of their sisterhood Darcy generously chose not to comment on the stupid know-it-all smirk he thought he was hiding. 

Smug bastard.

They’d placed their orders, and he’d casually commented “raspberry scones? I heard some Captain in our building was particularly fond of those back in his day.”

Point taken, Samuel, point fucking taken.

Darcy was a fucking idiot, and owed Steve a scone, an apology, and probably some thanks and groveling while she was at it, for not being an even bigger pain in the ass. Which he had a total right to be, because Heimdall only knew the hell she’d have raised if she were in his place.

As she strolled back towards the tower with Sam, sucking down her iced java mocha, Darcy had sent Steve a quick text asking if he were free to meet sometime today. It had taken all of ten seconds for him to say he had time at one thirty, if she picked the place.

So, here she was, waiting on Mr. America to show up, cinnamon mocha latte in hand. And demolishing a second of those pumpkin cream cheese muffins, since he too was whispering to her while she ordered.

She may owe Cappy an apology, but he was still being a little shit yesterday. She didn’t want him to have any more of an upper hand by default, so Darcy had shown up forty-five minutes early to snag a table and a scone for Steve.

Speaking of Cappy, what was his middle name, anyways? She couldn’t put her finger on it. 

Steven Ulysses? Steven Tyler? 

Darcy barked out a laugh before she pursed her lips in thought. It was right on the tip of her tongue. 

Steven Andrew?

Steven McQueen?

She snickered a little. 

She was about to have a mobster-style sit down with Mr. Wholesome himself, and frankly, it was so ridiculous she wanted to laugh.

Darcy’s heart started to race as Steve entered the little shop, baseball cap pulled low, aviators on. He nodded in her direction, and she gave him a little half smile she hoped looked genuine and welcoming and all that fucking jazz. He got his coffee, (black, of course, because he was a cantankerous old man stuck in a twenty-five year old dream boat’s hot-rod of a bod) and slid into the seat across from her, taking off the glasses but keeping on the cap.

Cappy wearing a cap. She snickered a little again.

“Hello, Darcy.” 

He was so polite it was uncomfortable. He sounded so formal. Should she be formal, too? Channel her great grandma and act with a little more class?

Was it hot in here? She was feeling a little flushed, she thought, as her heart started pounding and an overwhelming amount of anxiety swept over her. She was totally, completely _not prepared_ for a sit-down with Cappy.

Darcy felt the buzz of a text vibrate in her faux-leather jacket pocket, but didn’t have a chance to open it before he expectantly raised his eyebrows at her, and it occurred to her she hadn’t even returned his greeting.

Stay classy, Lewis.

“Hey, Steve!” Smooth, Darcy. Way to nearly scream at him. That was ridiculously over-excited sounding, and the poor man actually winced at the volume. 

Trying to be more subdued, Darcy tried again. “Um, well, thank you, for meeting me,” she forced a pained smile as she pushed the scone across the table towards him. Was she grimacing at him again? It felt like she might be.

Her heart was pounding so hard she actually touched her chest just to try to help keep that sucker in there.

“Well, you’re welcome ma-uh, Darcy,” she was pretty sure he was about to call her ma’am, and thank _fuck_ she had been practicing the Natasha-brow so she could correct him without actually cutting him off. “Thank you, uh, for asking me to…” 

He forced a smile back. There were way too many teeth visible. It looked like he was taking a school picture.

Fuck. 

“What’s this?” He nodded towards the scone.

“Oh, a little Falcon told me these were your favorite,” Darcy said with a second forced smile. Or was it her third? She also was likely showing way too many teeth. 

Fuck fuck _fuck_.

They were both grimacing.

Because this was painful.

And now silent. 

Silence, silence, silence.

How could a coffee shop be so quiet?

God, this was awkward.

It was so fucking awkward.

It was the _worst kind of awkward_ and she was _dying over here_ and _oh my god_. 

Now she was sweating. Like rings under your armpits, beads of sweat on your forehead, jeans sticking to the plastic seat sweating.

Her heart was pounding, she was dripping with sweat, and her pocket kept buzz buzz buzzing away.

_Buzz, buzz, buzz_.

This was the _worst_.

And it was so quiet.

Who knew Steve chewed three times before each swallow?

Silence, once again, as she just stared at him as he ate the scone.

Oh my fucking _god_.

She was literally _watching someone eat_.

_Buzz buzz buzz._

“You gonna answer that?” Cappy was pointedly glaring at her pocket, one eyebrow doing the Natasha, as if it was _her fault_ that some jackass just kept texting and texting and texting, and _oh my god_ how was it still fucking buzzing? 

She slid it out of her pocket and almost dropped the damn thing with her sweaty palms.

This was a disaster. 

Five missed calls and more text messages were bombarding as Darcy slid her thumb to open the screen.

**Sergeant Sexy: You okay doll?**

**Sergeant Sexy: Darcy? Everything alright?**

**Sergeant Sexy: Darce, seriously, give a guy a break and send me something, doll.**

**Sergeant Sexy: A flare will do.**

**Sergeant Sexy: One of those weird cat moving pictures you like.**

A gif, bless his little super soldier heart.

**Sergeant Sexy: What the fuck is going on, Darcy? Why are you freaking out?**

**Sergeant Sexy: Do I need to come get you?**

**Sergeant Sexy: Jarvis has the tower on lockdown and I’m tracking your phone.**

Darcy was pretty sure her mouth was doing the whole “O-shape of silent horror” thing, but she was frozen in bewildered panic as three more texts popped up rapid fire on the screen.

Wasn’t he new to this shit? How was he even typing so fast? Did the serum enhance finger dexterity?

Now that was a fun thought.

**Sergeant Sexy: You have two seconds to respond before I come into that coffee shop dollface.**

**Sergeant Sexy: Fuck, Darce, just flip me the fucking bird so I know you’re alright.**

**Sergeant Sexy: Natalia is coming in through the vents to assess the situation, just hang on sweetheart.**

“Jesus fucking CHRIST ON A CRACKER OH MY GOD.” 

Steve just gaped at her, along with every other patron in the shop as she quickly punched the call button her phone.

It most certainly did not escape her notice that she just heard a little tap above her head in the ceiling.

“I don’t know who the fuck this is,” he growled into her ear when he picked up a mere _millisecond_ after it started ringing, “but you better hear me when I tell you-“

“Slow your roll, Rambo! God damnit, Sharky, it’s me, it’s Darcy! Why don’t you just take a fucking minute and put the guns away. Oh my _god_. Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Barnes, what in the actual fuck-”

“He’s here?” Steve was looking around in confusion, scanning something out the window before turning back to face his scone with a little grin.

She heard Barnes exhale forcefully the second she started talking and he interrupted her briskly with “Yeah doll, what in the actual _fuck_ is right? What the fuck is going on? Why are you panicking? And what the fuck is a Rambo? Stand down, Natalia,” he muttered into something that sound suspiciously like a com.

Oh my god. 

She was never in her life going to live this one down. Tony was going to hold this over her for the rest of eternity.

And Steve, that little shit, was trying to smother a _laugh_.

Also, it shouldn’t be such a turn-on that Sergeant Sexy literally almost demolished a coffee shop because of her, but Darcy couldn’t help but feel a teensy tiny bit pleased with herself. 

Until she recalled the muffins. Those poor, innocent little pumpkin cream cheese babies that he almost obliterated like a _crazy person_.

They needed to discuss boundaries, for fucks sake, before she ran out of snack shops. She obviously was never going to step foot into this fine establishment again, if the looks of horror from the workers behind the counter were anything to go by.

Was she yelling? She should try for easy, breezy, beautiful Darcy girl.

She was losing her shit.

“I’ll explain later, but seriously, everything is fine! I’m just meeting Steverino for coffee, you know, super casual, shooting the shit, chatting it up, blah blah blah. We’re cool, everything’s good, its all cool, dude.”

Was that too many ‘cool’s?

“You sure felt awfully anxious over meeting ‘Steverino for coffee super casual’,” he mimicked. There was a strong edge of disbelief in that tone that Darcy didn’t appreciate, but it wasn’t like she could explain herself with said Steverino sitting right fucking there across from her. 

Listening, if his muttered _shit_ was anything to go by.

“Copy that, Natalia,” he muttered, before speaking into the phone “it appears you are meeting Steve.”

Darcy blinked, and then her mouth took off.

“Oh my GOD! James Buchanan Barnes, you get her out of the vents right this minute, do you hear me? Right now!” Darcy didn’t care if she was yelling and embarrassing Cappy, this was so fucking mortifying she wanted to sink down into the hardwood flooring and never come out again.

“Why the fuck are you panicking over meeting up with Stevie anyway, doll? What did he do to you?”

She saw Steve spit out the sip of coffee he’d just taken in disbelief before a huge grin split his face. _Stevie_ , she saw him mouth. 

If she weren’t in a fucking _panic_ and trying to prevent a _national incident in a coffee shop_ she would have given him a giant high-five over his BFF remembering his childhood nickname, because that was actually way awesome and exciting. 

“Nothing, god! We just- we’re just talking! Oh my god, this is so terrible. This is the worst thing that could actually happen. I can’t believe this. This is so awkward and now we’ve made a scene and I thought the silence was bad but now I’m yelling and you’re yelling and Steve is spitting his coffee all over the table and-“

“Steve is what now?” 

She chose to look past the fact that Steve was now openly smirking. A little movement on the rooftop visible out the window caught her eye.

No. Fucking. Way.

No, absolutely not.

This was not happening.

This was not her _life_.

Oh my _god_ this is so _embarrassing_ and “James Buchanan Barnes!” 

Her throat was hurting a little. Was she shrieking? Based on Steve’s wince she might be a little more screech and a little less class. She should probably tone it down, but at this point the entire shop thought she was the biggest drama llama on the planet, so might as well keep it rolling. “If you think I can’t see you across the street still watching me through a _sniper scope_ then you have seriously underestimated the powers of lasik surgery,” she ground out.

Wide-eyed patrons were nervously looking everywhere and nowhere all at the same time, Steve was starting to look like he had bad indigestion, and Darcy heard Sharky growl. 

She looked over Steve’s shoulder to watch as he started to disassemble the rifle, Natasha walking up behind him. That growl was doing delicious, dirty little things to her, and she couldn’t help but shift in her seat.

Another growl, and she was pretty sure her panties were now decidedly a little _wet_. “You’re awful fucking hot for meeting ‘Steverino for coffee super casual,’” he growled, “you carryin’ a torch for him or somethin, doll?”

“What the-“ Darcy’s eyes narrowed as Steve flushed and tried to bite back a smile. “What the fuck does that even _mean_? Carrying a torch for him? I can’t believe this is my life right now,” she finished with a whine, smacking her free hand to her forehead.

He grunted, and now for some reason even that was a fucking turn on, and oh my god if she didn’t just shift in her seat once again just to get a little friction because of the things Sergeant Sexy was doing to her.

She needed to talk to Sam immediately. She needed therapy. She needed a little alone time with her Battery Operated Boyfriend too, apparently.

“Jesus, doll, what are you doing to me,” he breathed, and a bolt of lust shot straight down Darcy’s spine. 

She chuckled breathily and bit her tongue. “Trust me, big guy, right back at’cha. Just, can’t we just, like, ugh, talk about this later or something? You know, like normal people?” 

The longest pause to ever pause ensued.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Pause, pause, pause.

She wasn’t the only drama llama here today, apparently.

Finally, he rumbled “yeah, doll, we can talk about this later. You promise you’re okay?”

A shiver shot up her spine. BOB was getting a workout tonight.

“I’m _fine_ , kiss kiss, hug hug, good _bye_ Barnesadoodle.” After she hung up Darcy pointedly stared a few inches south of Steve’s eyes because she couldn’t for the life of her face Cappy’s sure to be judgmental ‘sad grandpa’ face.

Or his ‘you are hilarious but in way over your head’ face.

Or his ‘you all are children and I am above your nonsense’ face.

Or his ‘I knew it’ face.

Any face, really. Any face was just too much at this moment.

One beat, two, three, four; the silence just stretched on and on between them as she stared at his chest and pretended she couldn’t see his frown.

She had to say something. Why hadn’t anyone said anything? 

Good fucking god when had he finished the scone? Sometime during that fiasco?

Why was everyone in the coffee shop looking at them? Oh my god, she was too loud.

She could never come back here again, that was for fucking certain.

Should she have bought him two scones? Super soldiers had big appetites, right?

They didn’t have to talk about the phone call, did they? He’d clearly heard all of it.

Speaking of, why had he just sat there, cool as a cucumber, while one psycho was crawling through the vents and a second was staring at them through a _sniper rifle_.

Oh my fucking _Thor_ it was so fucking _quiet_ , and- _buzz buzz buzz_.

**Sergeant Sexy: Breathe, sweetheart. You’re beautiful when you’re nervous, but you need to breathe.**

This was a terrible fucking idea.

The worst idea in the history of ideas. 

They never should have come here. What in the actual _fuck_ had she been thinking?

“Uh, well, thanks for the scone,” Steve scooted back his chair, and she realized in a blind panic that he was going to _leave_ and she was a fucking _idiot_ and they hadn’t even _said anything_ and everyone was _staring_ and oh my fucking _Thor_. 

“Wait!” she practically shouted at him, throwing an arm out wildly. He looked mildly alarmed, and she pitched her voice down as he sat back down with a plop. “Ah, fuck me,” she groaned. “This is so, so, _so_ not how I thought this would go. I don’t even know what I thought would happen but this sure as fuck wasn’t it, let me tell you. You envision scenario after scenario and trust me, this wasn’t one of them. Jesus, this is-“

“Darcy,” he interrupted, before she waved him off.

“No, no, let me finish, I’ll wrap it up Cap-Attack. Listen, I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot here, and I, oh Christ this is so awful,” she moaned, dropping her head into her hands.

“Hey, how about we take a walk, huh? Get a pretzel and go through the park?”

Darcy sat up with a wide grin and took in his outstretched hand. She sighed, letting all the tension roll out of her shoulders, and ignored the fact that everyone in the shop was looking at them and away from them both at the same time. “That sounds like the best fucking idea anyone has had all day, Steverino.”

~*~

Twenty minutes later, pretzels and lemonades in hand, they were strolling side by side through the park. Darcy tipped her head back to take in the sunlight filtering through her sparkly star-shaped sunglasses before letting the rest of her tension out in a long sigh.

“Alright, Steven, I think I’m ready. You ready?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him smile. “I was born ready, doll.”

Darcy smiled wide and took a slurp of her lemonade. “Nice reference! Well done! Anywho, in all honesty, I really feel like we’ve been on the same team all along. You know, with the big guy,” he gave a patient nod so she swallowed and blundered on. “We just- we have different methods. I mean, we both want the Barnesicle to have a healthy, happy life, right?”

Steve sighed and nodded in what was apparently reluctant agreement. “Yes, of course, Darcy.”

She bumped his shoulder and finished off her pretzel. “I want that, Steve. I swear to you, I want that for him. I have given up the second most precious commodity in my life, _sleep_ , to try to give him that.”

He smirked a little and raised a brow, ducking his head down to look over at her under his aviator frames. “Let me guess, he’s the first?”

Darcy scoffed and tossed her pretzel wrapper in the nearby bin as they passed.

She missed, because of course she did, because she was not channeling her inner ninja warrior goddess and was instead freaking the fuck out over _talking_ , which is something that never happened, and she realized now at his frown that she had totally dropped the conversation. 

She shot him a wry grin as she picked up the trash. “No, you big cheeseball, he’s not the first. This isn’t a rom-com, I’m not some star-crossed damsel over here. He just barely edged out sleep, it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more to pass by _coffee_. I mean, I make Lorelai Gilmore seem sane. The Gilmore Girls ain’t got nothing on Darcy Lewis and her love of coffee. Have you seen that show yet? It should be on your Netflix queue for sure.”

Steve just chuckled and bumped her shoulder back as she fell into step with him again. “Good to know,” he said dryly, before sighing heavily. “Look, I know you want to help him, Darcy, I believe you. It’s just… Look, I’ll be straight with ya, doll. You don’t know him, you’re not some kind of PTSD expert, you have zero experience with this. How are you supposed to help? That’s what I don’t get.”

Darcy pursed her lips, tilted her head, and took a long slurp of her lemonade. “To be fair, Steve, you don’t really know him anymore, either.” She held up her hand when he came to a stop and turned to her, “and neither does he. I think that’s part of the problem. You know who he was, I know who he is a little bit just because of our, uh, _bond_ , but none of us have a fucking clue who it is _he_ wants to be.” 

Steve swallowed, smiling a bit as he started to follow the path as it circled back towards the Tower. “I’m guessing you already have a plan in mind?” he asked with a curious raise of an eyebrow.

Darcy smirked and shrugged. “I may have a few ideas, but I think that’s been part of the problem, too. They are _my_ ideas. I tend to just fucking go for it if I’m anxious or nervous or feeling overwhelmed. Which I totally am, dude. Without a fucking doubt. I’m not ashamed to say I hit up the Sam-man for advice as often as I need to, because this shit is so much bigger than little ole me, and I think there’s no shame in getting help with you need it. Anyways, enough of my shit,” she gestured with her cup, “what do _you_ think?”

He pursed his lips in thought for a moment. He really was so pretty, she just wanted to fold him up and put him in her little pocket and carry him around to squeeze when she was having a bad day. “I could tell you about who he was, if you want,” he offered. 

She bit her lip as a smile spread across her face. “We are on the same fucking page, mon Capitan. Yes, indeedy. Let’s kick things up a notch though, shall we? Rather than just me, why not share with the class and tell _him_ , too?”

Steve snorted out a startled laugh and quirked a brow. “Isn’t that why we are having the world’s worst meeting in the first place? Hasn’t that been the problem?”

Darcy giggled a little, leaning into his side. “Yeah, about that. You know we are never gonna live this one down, right?”

“You mean _you_ aren’t. He wasn’t about to execute a bunch of coffee patrons, with Natasha monitoring through the vents, over me, doll.”

“ _Anyways_ ,” she said with a wide smile and cheeks that most definitely were not bright pink, “that’s not important. What I meant was what if you tell him, without really telling him?”

He shook his head. “You lost me, Darcy.”

Darcy hooked her arm through his with a wide grin and filled him in on her plan and they took another lap around the park. 

~*~

A few hours later, Darcy and Steve had gathered Tony, Sam, Natasha, and Bruce in the large Avengers common area on seventy-five. Thor and Jane were galivanting around Asgard, but it was probably best they start with a small group, anyways, so Darcy was only mildly pissed she hadn’t even gotten a goodbye text.

Steve and Darcy stood together in front of the group, sporting totally embarrassing twin grins as Steve gestured to a large covered whiteboard behind them while everyone settled in. 

“Okay, so we think we have an idea for helping _James_ maybe get some of his memories back, or at least start to make some new ones,” Steve began, emphasizing the name James. 

Darcy smiled proudly at him, and squeezed his arm. What a good little Cappy.

She picked up where he trailed off, “we were thinking. Steve knows _Bucky_ really well, but that person might as well be a stranger to James, and he barely even knows anything about himself now…” 

Tony made an impatient gesture with his hand “speed it up, Brady Bunch, we don’t have all day”. 

“Now, this was really Darcy’s idea,” Steve praised, beaming down at her before turning to whip the sheet off of the whiteboard.

Who knew Captain America had such pizzazz? 

“So, we thought we’d make a list. Of everything he used to like, his favorites for anything and everything Steve could remember. Then, we’d each add our favorites too, and he could pick some to try, or all if he wanted, and then in the last column he’d fill in what his favorites are now!” Darcy clapped proudly at that, smiling wide as Steve winked at her.

“What do you think, guys?” He was grinning ear to ear, eyes bright with excitement.

Cappy was totally adorable when he wasn’t being a huge asshat.

“I think it’s a miracle you two have smiled at each other for five minutes straight,” Sam drawled, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“It could help spark some memories for him,” Bruce mused, a small smile lifting his lips as he nodded his agreement. “Would we all do all of the activities with him?”

Darcy shrugged, “Some of them. Some we could do as a group, and we were even thinking some one on one, too, so he could get to know everyone a little better, while they got to know him.”

Natasha squeezed Bruce’s hand and nodded with a small smile. “Count me in.”

Sam grinned and gave her a thumbs-up. “Same here, but don’t put me down for the sex positions I see listed at the bottom. You’ll have to help him learn about those on your own time,” he finished with a wink. 

Steve coughed as Darcy spun around to stare at the board. “What the-“ 

Tony’s bark of laughter echoed as he clapped her on the back.

“How did you even _do_ that? Did we even leave this thing alone after putting it together?”

He shrugged and started writing his favorites down. “I can’t reveal my secrets, short stack, but let’s just say I’m more than a man in a ‘tin can’.”

~*~

He could feel the stupid smile spreading over his face at her enthusiasm. She could see the reluctance in his eyes, but he’d agreed to participate and she was practically bouncing with excitement. Darcy was babbling about ice cream flavors as she led him down the hall towards the common room so he could look at the list and pick out where he wanted to start, when his hand shot out to hold onto her wrist, turning her gently to look at him.

“Darce, doll, wait a second,” he said softly, a frown forming on his brow while his thumb stroked her wrist.

Her face fell, and he smiled a little while rolling his eyes. “Not backing out, sweetheart, just want to make a bit of a deal.”

“A deal.” The suspicion in her tone made him snort and openly smirk.

“Yes, Darcy, a deal. I’ll do the list, wholeheartedly. In the meantime, you start training.” He was serious, and tried to project it towards her. 

She swallowed and nodded, giving him an apprehensive, and not super enthusiastic, smile. “Alright, _fine_ , we can train.”

He shook his head, taking a step closer so she had to crane her neck up to keep his gaze. “I mean it, Darce. Serious training. I’ve been thinking that if you’re going to be stuck with me then you need to be able to defend yourself.”

She started to interrupt, but he brought his hand up to press a metal finger to her lips. “Not just from me, doll. From the people who will want to kill me, probably for the rest of my life. They’ll want to kill you, too, if even a whiff of something gets out about us, even if they just think we have a normal relationship. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you, Darce,” his voice cracked on her name, and he pulled her into a tight hug while his anxiety rippled over her.

He felt her swallow and squeeze him tight. “Okay, okay, Sharky, jeez give a woman the space to breathe,” she was nervous, but the deflection didn’t bother him. “We can start training first thing tomorrow,” she said as she smacked his chest and put a little space between them. 

He nodded, pulling back to turn and walk towards the elevator. Her little hand tugged as she twined her fingers through his and brought him to a stop. “Hey, uh, Sarg?”

He gave her a little half-smile, eyes warm as his metal hand came up to brush the hair out of her eyes. “Yeah, doll?”

Darcy smiled shyly at him, lashes fluttering, and his heart started pounding at the warm pink spreading over her pale skin. “I don’t think I could live with myself, either, if anything happened to you.” 

His heart was damn near thumping near out of his chest when he slowly slid his cool metal fingers over her cheek. He slipped the back of his fingers over her cheekbone before he slid them down her silky skin to cup under her chin and force her gaze back up to his.

“I know, doll. That’s on the agenda for what we gotta talk about later, when you wanna talk about what happened earlier. I can feel you sometimes, too,” he winked wolfishly and started to whistle as he tugged a bright red Darcy down the hall.

Twenty minutes later he couldn’t help but laugh when Darcy suggested a movie night tonight as the first whiteboard activity. He might be off the hook for the coffee shop after all if her blush over feeling each other was anything to go by, and he didn’t have the slightest problem with exploiting that one as long as he could.

~*~  
Darcy made her way down to the theater Tony had installed for movie nights, trying not to overthink the fact that they still hadn’t talked and he was meeting her here after an afternoon session with Sam. 

He’d backed her into a neat little corner, that fucker. Every time she thought about wanting to bring up the coffee shop, she panicked over him bringing up the obvious lust he was feeling, and she just couldn’t face that conversation yet.

She may never, actually, and that might be just fine.

The sound of laughter greeted her ears as she walked into the room, strolling over to pick up a bottle of cherry coke and a bag of peanut butter M&Ms. 

“Who gets to choose first?” Tony called, gesturing towards the wall-sized screen with the remote. 

Steve projected a holograph of the board off his Starkpad so they could all see the list. Cappy was such a good little planner, thinking to upload it so they all had a reference they could update and look over.

“Oh! It’s my turn!” Nat smiled devilishly as she walked over to flop down next to Bruce on the middle couch. 

Only Tony Stark would have a full-on movie theater built in his home, with a giant screen, surround sound, couches, blankets, and everyone’s favorite snacks.

Darcy wasn’t sure she wanted to know how precisely he _knew_ everyone’s favorite snacks.

Pepper sauntered in with a smile and started to debate several movies with Natasha while joining Tony on the front right couch with a giant bowl shaped like Iron Man’s helmet full of popcorn.

Darcy frowned while she scanned the room. Sam was here. There was Steve. Where was Sharky? 

As she started to turn back towards the door, a deep voice rumbled in her ear as a metal hand snaked out in front of her, reaching around to grab a water bottle. 

She did not squeal like a little mouse and jump twenty feet in the air. She did _not_. “What an interesting outfit you’ve chosen for movie night, doll.”

A wave of lust hit her as she turned, and she realized with a grin it was his. 

Maybe the feelings connection thing wasn’t so bad.

Darcy raised her eyebrows with all the innocence she could muster. “Oh, this old thing?” She did a slow turn, shooting him a saucy grin and a wink as she felt heat roll over her. “These are just leggings, and this is a little racerback tank. Casual, exercise clothes. You know. I thought they’d be comfortable for the movie. Why… is something wrong?” 

She might have batted her eyelashes with all the grace of a southern belle in the face of his amused smirk.

Her eyes twinkled up at him and she saw him smile dangerously as he leaned in close. “Hmm. No, doll, nothing at all.”

She did not shiver with want and suddenly stare at his lips.

Those lips. So pouty and kissable it should be a crime.

His hum sent a shiver up her spine, and as he winked she realized he’d felt it too. 

Darcy ignored the fact that she could feel a flush climbing up from her neck over her cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes. 

She may have tossed a little more sway than was necessary into her hips as she walked in front of him to slide into the back left loveseat, but really, who could blame her? Two could play this game. As another wave of lust hit her, she threw a smirk over her shoulder. 

Until her rambling mind wondered if she could make Sharky bite.

Which made her wonder _where_ he would bite.

Which made her shiver. 

Which that fucker of course apparently noticed because his smile was almost _feral_ as he joined her on the loveseat and plucked her legs up into his lap.

Darcy tried for brash, carefree ninja warrior assassin goddess, and was about two seconds away from a snappy remark, her lips already tugging into a smirk.

Up until the second she saw him spread an enormous microfleece blanket over both of them, covering them completely from the waist down as the lights went out and the movie came on.

Well, fuck. She might be in trouble.

Dangerous, delicious, arousing trouble. The best kind damn kind there was.

The opening scene of The Notebook came on, and Darcy giggled at the collective groans from the male members of their movie night. “Great choice, Natasha!” She cheered, giggling as Sharky started to tickle her feet.

“Oh, you think so, do you?” He whispered, eyes flicking from the screen over to hers.

She bit back a smile and kicked out at his metal hand, nodding her head towards the screen. “Watch the movie, Sarg. This is a rom-com classic.”

An hour in, and Darcy was pretty sure she hadn’t paid any attention to what was on the screen for more than thirty seconds at a time. Sergeant Sexy over there was innocence personified, his eyes had never left the screen, he’d laughed in all the right places, he wistfully sighed when the movie makers wanted you to wistfully sigh. 

His hands, however? 

Jesus fucking Christ, his hands. 

To be honest they were innocent enough, if you looked over and could see. Technically, there was nothing anyone could fault him for. They stayed in all the G-Rated places and only did G-Rated things.

Unfortunately (fortunately, who was she kidding her) for her that didn’t fucking matter to her libido, however, because the way they were gliding over her legs, stroking her calves, grazing her feet, teasing her skin, made her want to climb into his lap and grind on him until she was coming like a freight train. 

They were feather-soft touches, more of a whisper than a press, but Darcy was so worked up she was starting to sweat.

She was sure she was flushed, she knew without a doubt she was breathing heavy nearly to the point of panting, and she had long since soaked through her underwear. 

As much as she channeled said ninja assassin warrior goddess and tried to hide it, tried to force it out of her mind, she knew he could feel it. He could feel how badly she wanted him.

That fucker. He wasn’t playing fair.

Not she was even the least bit mad about it. 

A sweep of her eyes over his manbun and five o’clock shadow, and she was pretty sure all of womankind and likely half of mankind wouldn’t blame her.

She wasn’t quite sure when it happened, really, this attraction between them. It may have started when he’d first entered her interrogation room and she’d smirked and licked her lips. It could have started when they danced in the cabin, collapsing together as he whispered for her to say his name again while he drifted off to sleep. It could have even been when they had a stakeout in their living room in the middle of the night.

It didn’t matter, really, because here she was, wetter than she’d ever been in her fucking _life_ , dying a little inside with each casual flick of his fingers against her skin, and he’d barely even touched her. 

Hell, he hadn’t even kissed her yet. 

How Darcy wanted him to. Hell, how she just wanted him, period. Wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone in her entire life.

If she was honest with herself, she was pretty sure it was a whole lot more than just wanting to take him to bed. She, Darcy Lewis, was honest to goodness falling for him. 

After less than a week.

She snorted with amusement at herself, and then blushed brightly as he turned to look at her like she was deranged. She was laughing while Finn died in the snow on the screen. 

_Fuck_. 

He smiled though, rolled his eyes and shook his head, and she knew he knew she hadn’t really watched any of the movie at all. 

His metal hand came out from under the blanket, and he reached over to brush her wrist before pulling her gently towards him. “Come here, doll,” he whispered huskily into her ear, turning her so she was pressed into his side, her head resting on his chest while his metal arm wrapped around her shoulder, holding her close. 

Who knew assassins were so snuggly?

Holy guacamole, did he smell delicious. She was about as subtle as a bloodhound as she leaned her head into his neck and inhaled some delicious combination of woodsy cologne and spice and something just _him_. 

She felt like an idiot as she sniffed again, but she just couldn’t stop, he smelled so delicious it made her toes curl under, and she just wanted to rub her nose all over his neck. He snorted when she surreptitiously (yeah, right) took enough of a whiff to make her head spin. “Watch the movie, Darcy doll,” he whispered with a chuckle, metal thumb ghosting over her bare arm. “Gonna give a guy a complex over hear. Startin to make me think I smell bad.”

Darcy giggled, but tried to follow his lead.

She tried, she really and truly did. She tried to pay attention, she tried to ignore the hard muscles pressing into her side and her cheek, she tried to ignore the metal fingers dancing along her side, she tried to ignore the heady swirl of pine and, was that mahogany? God damn he was mouthwatering. Would it be weird if she just, like, licked a trail right up his jaw?

Maybe nibbled on his earlobe?

Thank fuck she caught Sam’s eye a second later, otherwise she was pretty sure she may have done something embarrassing like kissed him right in front of the room full of superheroes.

_Let him lead_.

Sam had to mouth it a solid five times before she finally got the hint and blushed so fiercely it burned.

It became her mantra, _let him lead, let him lead, let him lead, do not lick him you idiot, do not climb in his lap_ , over and over until the credits started to roll and she realized she sat through a two and a half hour movie and hadn’t watched a minute of it.

Damn.

With a chuckle, he sat up, took hold of her hand, and tugged her with him up to stand. She completely missed even saying goodbye to the six other people they’d watched the movie with when he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led them towards the elevator. 

She hadn’t even eaten her M&Ms. 

Darcy Lewis, snack queen, had _forgotten to eat chocolate_.

Double damn.

She had a sinking feeling she was totally, completely, one billion million percent falling for Sharky, and she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

As the elevator doors slid open he led her silently up to their door and inside. 

Step, step, step. 

Silent, silent, silent.

He led her right up to her bedroom door before turning her to face him in front of it. He had a triumphant smile as he held up a crinkly orange package in front of him. “Thought you might want these?” He said teasingly, eyes taunting as she flushed for like the thousandth time that day. 

Since when was she such a blusher? She wasn’t the fucking virgin Mary over here, for Thor’s sake. 

She snatched the M&Ms out of his hand and held them behind her back. “Why yes, as a matter of fact I do,” she sassed, trying and failing to hold back a smile. Ninja assassin warrior goddesses did not _blush_.

They did _not_.

They _did_ , however, eat M&Ms in bed, and she had every intention of following through on that one.

His hand came up to stroke her cheek, and his eyes sparkled as he smiled down softly at her. “Goodnight, Darcy doll.”

The little nickname was doing things to her, and by the twinkle in his eye he totally fucking knew it, too.

Flirt. 

How did one fortify defenses against a beautiful, sexy, overwhelmingly delicious-smelling flirt? 

Well, her inner ninja warrior goddess told her that she should play it cool and casual. Keep it aloof. Keep it classy. 

Maybe formal?

“Goodnight, Sergeant Sex- ah, B-Barnes.”

Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck _fuck_.

She was pretty sure her face was so hot she would glow in the goddamn _dark_. Sergeant Sex Barnes?! Really?! _That_ was aloof? Cutting it off at sex instead of just letting the whole fucking sexy out was such a vast fucking improvement?

She couldn’t have just said Barnes? Freud would have a field day with this shit.

This was so mortifying.

His eyes were twinkling, and from the odd compression in his cheek it looked like he was physically biting back a smile.

“Sergeant Barnes will do, doll, though I’m open to Sergeant Sex if you are.”

He _winked_. A full-on, panty-dropping, debonair rogue, _wink_. 

That fucker.

Good lord, was it hot in here or what?

Darcy spun on her heal, deciding to retreat in glowing silence, until her conscience refused to allow her to ignore the fact that he had cleared his throat expectantly.

Like an idiot, she looked him in the eyes. “Aren’t you forgetting something, doll?”

Darcy frowned. 

M&Ms? Check. 

Horrifying mortification? Check.

Rampant desire to kiss him senseless? Check.

Embarrassingly-wet panties? Checkity check check check.

Her brow furrowed until his hands came up to cup her face. Darcy felt a bolt of arousal shoot down her spine, and realized with wide eyes that it was _his_ , but when she blinked up to call him on it all she could see were his lips coming down in slow motion, down down down, until she nearly withered on the spot as his lips lightly pressed into hers. 

Darcy felt her knees go weak and her head started to spin at the slow press and pull of his lips against hers. He kissed her like he had years to explore her, like he wanted to learn every inch, lips sliding oh so slow to tease until he pulled back and she let out an embarrassingly high pitched whine of protest.

Good god. Now she was keening, too? The blushing, the keening, the mind-blowing kissing. She didn’t even know who she was anymore.

She didn’t give a flying fuck, either, because that was the best kiss of her entire fucking _life_. 

“I don’t know about Bucky, but James wants a kiss goodnight from his girl every night he can get one, Darcy doll” he growled at her, voice rough like sandpaper as he pressed another kiss to the tip of her nose, before releasing her and disappearing into his room. The shiver that rolled through her made her press her eyes shut at the force of it, and on shaky legs she made it into her room to collapse onto her bed. 

She smiled like a fool up at her ceiling as she burrowed into the covers and played the kiss over and over in her mind, crunching down on M&M after M&M. 

His girl.

Darcy could get used to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any Punisher fans out there? I started watching that series on Netflix this weekend and oh my Thor, I'm obsessed. If you've got any good fics you'd recommend, drop a comment and send them my way!! :D
> 
> Have a lovely week!! Thank you to everyone who comments, kudos, follows along, etc. It is so so fun getting to know all of you. Thank you for wandering through this story with me :)


	10. Chapter 10

At _who the fuck knows_ o’clock the next morning, all dreams of taking Sharky down to pound town were momentarily forgotten when the blare of an alarm rattled her to her very _bones_. Darcy shrieked and leapt out of bed.

Well, she _meant_ to leap out of bed.

What actually happened was the alarm blasted out of the ceiling, and with all the grace of a newborn fowl, she flopped onto the floor face first, arms akimbo, while her legs dangled above her, tangled in the sheets. 

“I take it you aren’t much of a morning person,” Natasha said mildly from somewhere to her right. 

“Jesus!” Darcy flopped back over the other direction with her head to her heart before half-heartedly tossed a pillow that had tumbled down in the mayhem. Which Natasha dodged with a casual step, of course, because she was effortlessly the inner ninja warrior goddess of Darcy’s soul. Darcy tried to kick out of the sheets like a badass, and promptly tumbled the rest of the way off the bed in a somersault.

Face first.

Because of _course_.

“ _Is_ it morning?” Darcy whined, shoving her wild bed hair out of her face as she turned to glare suspiciously at sheets playing innocent hanging off the side of her bed. Those fuckers may have won this round, but she’d be damned if they’d take her again.

Oh sweet Frigga, it was way too early for this shit.

She was threatening her sheets.

Natasha shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Does it matter,” Darcy mumbled, standing up and crossing her arms. “Does it matter if it’s morning, you mean? _Yes_ it matters. What are you doing here, anyway?”

She had a brief, shining moment of panic that something may have happened, and reached out with all her spidey-senses to take stock. She didn’t sense any anger from the big guy. The alarm had suspiciously stopped blaring when she tumbled out of bed. No one was storming down the halls outside. Natasha was unarmed. 

Well, she didn’t have a visible weapon drawn, anyway. Darcy highly doubted she was anything less than absolutely armed, one hundred percent of the time.

“It’s time to train. I thought today we’d start with jogging.”

Natasha was now armed to the _teeth_ as far as Darcy was concerned. Jogging. 

Before dawn.

Jogging. Before. Dawn.

Oh, hell to the freaking no.

Darcy was shaking her head with an emphatic, enthusiastic, one hundred thousand fucking percent _no_ when Natasha tossed her a bright blue t-shirt, Captain America’s shield shining away in all its embossed glory on the front. “What if I told you we could stop for lattes on the way back, and I’d smuggle you out of your suite before Sergeant Barnes makes you swallow the raw egg concoction he’s putting together in the kitchen for you?”

_Blech_. She had nothing left to give but _blech_.

Well, at least she didn’t have to fear he was about to tear her door down if he was aware that Natasha had woken her at this ungodly hour. Speaking of. “What time is it, anyways?”

Another shrug. “Does it make you feel better to know Sergeant Barnes also made me wait? I was going to get you up over an hour ago.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes. “I don’t care if you’re the Black Widow or Big Green, if you woke him up so help me-“

“Easy there,” Natasha held up a hand with a small smile. “Do you really think I would do that? We were training down in the gym.”

Darcy held the shirt up. _‘I’ll Captain Your America’_ flashed in bold, glittery white letters across the shield. 

It was the best fucking thing she’d ever seen.

It _might_ even be worth getting out of bed for.

In two hours.

Wait, there’s a gym? “Gym?”

“The fact that you had no idea there was even a gym means we need to start training immediately.”

Not like she had any choice. Darcy was well aware Sergeant Sexy would likely haul her out on her ass, provided Natasha waited long enough before doing so herself.

She was fucked. 

“Throw in a donut with my latte and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she called over her shoulder on her way into the bathroom. 

“Only if we get to leave your room the fun way,” Natasha parried. 

Darcy popped her head around the corner and narrowed her eyes. “And what, pray tell, is the fun way?”

All she got was a Natasha-brow and “do we have a deal?”

Half an hour later as she shimmied through the vents, following Natasha down to her floor, Darcy was pretty sure she’d been had.

Stupid glittery t-shirt. Stupid glistening donut. 

Not stupid coffee, though. Never that.

~*~

Half a day from hell later, Darcy found herself in hiding.

She was curled up in a closet on floor fifty-three with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and not the least bit sorry about it. 

She didn’t give a fuck that tonight was ice cream night and more B&J’s was sure to follow. You could _never_ have too much ice cream in one day. Thor fucking _forbid_.

She also particularly didn’t give a damn about how it essentially evened out her fifty-billion mile jog with Natasha this morning, at _best_.

She didn’t give a rat’s ass.

Not one fig.

Not one iota.

Not one…. 

Was she out already? Jeez Louise, she might be losing her touch. That was what happened when you woke up before the fucking birds even started chirping, damnit.

She _deserved_ this pint, that was the thing. She was rudely woken at _five thirty in the morning_ and dragged through the vents of _Avengers_ Tower, down to the main floor, and forced to sprint (well, jog with a lot of stops to walk and clutch dramatically at her side) all around the city.

City may be a stretch.

But it was at _least_ all around the borough.

If by borough you only counted this block and the two-block perimeter.

Who the fuck cared, it was a long, long, _long_ morning jog and she was exhausted and tired and if one more asshole shoved something green at her to eat she was going to zap them with her taser until their toes popped off.

She cackled with glee, flipped off the lid to her Half-Baked pint, and greedily smacked her lips with anticipation. “Come to mama.” She sounded a little maniacal.

She might need a nap after this.

She hadn’t even slid the spoon through the top layer _once_ when the door popped open and fucking sad Grandpa Cappy gave her his most disappointed face.

His ‘you have not just let me down, Darcy, you have truly let yourself down’ face.

“Cheating on the first day? When you already get to cheat tonight? I expected more from you, Darcy.”

Naturally, she reacted the way any sane warrior goddess would when confronted with one’s inner judging Judy.

She burst into tears.

Messy, blubbery, soak your shirt and keep on comin’ tears.

~*~

When he woke up this morning, he did his usual process of taking stock of his surroundings and his feelings. He calibrated his arm, he repeated the sayings Sam said would help ground him even on the rough nights (which, lets be honest, were every night). _I am James Buchanan Barnes. I am here. I am present. I am safe in Avengers Tower. I am bonded to Darcy Lewis. Darcy Lewis is my friend._ Next, as he now did every morning, he ran scenarios as he started to plan out and picture his day.

Not once had he pictured himself cradling a hysterical, adorable, very messy but still the cutest crier he’d ever laid eyes on, Darcy Lewis. 

He’d been meeting with Sam, talking through steps they could take to make him more comfortable leaving the tower for social events, when all of a sudden he got this weird fucking urge to cry.

He felt overwhelmed, tired, and terrified. Sad, lost. Confused?

None of which were appropriate when they were talking the merits of asking Steve to go to a ball game.

Pissed would have been an appropriate emotion. He was fucking pissed the Brooklyn Dodgers sold and shipped out.

He must have vocalized some part of the crushing weight on his lungs because Sam was looking at him like he was out of his fucking mind.

He just shrugged. As he began the process of sending Darcy a text to see what the fuck was wrong, Steve marched into the office and literally dumped his girl right into his lap. 

She was a mess, hair all tangled, nose stuffed up, face all blotchy, and more tears streaking out while she hiccupped into his chest.

She was the most beautiful dame he’d ever had the pleasure of holding. 

He didn’t even have to think about it, he just wrapped her up in his arms, held her tight, and started whispering in her ear the way he would his little sister when she’d come home cryin’ from the bullies at school. “Shh, Darce, it’s okay, you’re safe now doll. Tell me what happened,” he wound one arm around her back to hold her to his chest and circled the other arm around her shoulders, threading his fingers through her hair. 

Broken words in between hiccups, he didn’t have a clue what was going on, yet still she was damn near breaking his heart. 

He gave Steve a helpless look when he had asked her to repeat what she was saying three times and was still no closer to having any clue about what had upset her so much. 

“Caught her trying to sneak contraband when I was doing a security sweep. Honest to god, I didn’t mean to upset her, I was just givin’ her a hard time.”

He had a few fucking choice words for Stevie for making his girl go off like that, and if his hands weren’t full of delicious Darcy he might have just socked him for it. “Not h-h-his f-f-f-fault,” she burst into his chest with fresh round of tears. 

Sam was mouthing something at him.

What the fuck was he saying? 

_Bake her blue moon?_

What?

That couldn’t be right.

Wasn’t that a beer? He was pretty sure it was on the list as Darcy’s favorite.

Kids these days. They baked beer now?

“Seriously, man? You two are meant for each other. You’re supposed to be some badass super assassin and you can’t even read lips. Take her back to your room, you idiot.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. He scooped her up, settled her comfortably in his arms so she could continue to nuzzle into his neck, shot Steve a withering glare, and marched with purpose towards the elevator. 

If he channeled the Soldier to full on smolder at the lab assistant in the elevator until he paled and slid out before the doors closed, who could blame him? His girl didn’t need other people judging her shit.

“If I may, Sergeant Barnes,” Jarvis cut in overhead once he kicked the door to their suite firmly shut behind him. “Darcy has created a playlist for when you’re having a rough day. I could play it, if you think it may comfort her.”

“Yeah, yeah, o’course,” he called out as he awkwardly walked around the room, still holding a sniffling Darcy. 

Chair? Too cramped.

Bed? While he fully intended to take her there like this at some point, he currently pictured fewer (no) tears. 

Kitchen table? That would just be weird.

His eyes lit on the couch, and he sank down into the cushions while piano music started drifting through the room. He slung one of the blankets that had been folded over the back around until she was completely covered, snagged a handful of tissues and awkwardly thrust them at her, and then attempted to busy himself stroking her hair and rubbing her shoulders as the last of her sniffles fizzled out. 

It took a few more minutes, until finally her little fist tossed the balled-up tissues over to the coffee table (she missed, beautiful girl) before closing in on the cotton of his gray long sleeved shirt. 

A few minutes more, and she let out a long sigh. 

He hated to push, and he certainly knew that sometimes you left well enough alone, but still. This was Darcy. 

This was Darcy, and she’d been silent for over- well, shit. Twenty-eight minutes in his presence, at least. 

“What made you cry, doll?” He asked quietly.

He felt her shrug and snuggle closer into his chest. He made sure to squeeze his arms a little tighter around her when she hitched in another breath, and pressed his lips to her hair as she swallowed down another round of tears. 

“Nothing.”

It was so quiet if he hadn’t had enhanced hearing he may not have heard her.

Just as he opened his mouth she kept going, “honestly, Sarg, it _was_ nothing. But it was everything, too. Do you ever have those moments? Those times when it is nothing and everything and you don’t even know what set you off but you’re wound up tight and something is wrong but you don’t even know what it is?”

He waited, stroked his hand through her hair a few more times, and attempted to parse through everything she’d just laid down. He took a deep breath. 

Yeah, he knew what that was like. All the fucking time. Except for one thing. “Don’t you, though?”

She sniffled and he had to bite back a grin when he felt her inhale into his neck. So what if the first thing he did now any time he showered was put on a little of the aftershave she liked? She was his girl, she got what she liked. He couldn’t give her much, but he could give her that, and he can give her this. “Don’t I, what?” She whispered.

His hands didn’t stop sliding over the curve of her shoulders, the little slip of skin at the back of her neck just below her hairline, when he pitched his tone softer and replied. “Don’t you know what’s wrong? Maybe you don’t wanna say it, or aren’t ready to. You don’t have to tell me nothin’, either. But I’m pretty sure you do know what’s wrong, Darcy doll.”

He heard her mutter _you’ve been talking to Samuel too much_ into his neck before she pushed back on his chest and sat up a bit, making him loosen his grip a tad. “It isn’t you. It really, honest to god isn’t. But I just, god, it sounds so selfish. I’m just- I’m so _tired_. It’s been one thing after another, and it sounds so silly but I was finally getting a good night’s sleep, and then there was an alarm and then a crazy woman and the vents and she wouldn’t let me get whipped cream on my latte and _plain_ donut which why the fuck do those even exist and she made me get a made me eat spinach for lunch and I hate cranberries and they were in my salad and-“

“Easy, Darce,” he cut in with an encouraging smile, “breathe, you gotta breathe, sweetheart.”

Tears were shimmering in her eyes and she forced out a long breath. “And a mean old man took away your ice cream, too, don’t forget that part,” he supplied with a grin.

“Yes! That too! Oh, god. The door swung open and Steve’s stupid fucking ‘I am so disappointed in your life choices’ face and I just _lost_ it, Sharky, I lost it and I’m so _tired_ and I don’t regret this, I promise, oh shit you probably think that’s what this is but-“

He placed a finger to her lips. 

“To quote a special lady I know, as best I can anyway, ‘I’m only gonna say this once, so you better listen up, buttercup, and listen good.’ I know all your shit ain’t about me, doll, same way all my shit ain’t about you, either. But I also know you’re in this position because of me. And- hang on, Darce, let me finish,” he gave her a half smile. “I’m in this because of you, too. We are a _team_ , isn’t that what you said? Now, it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a team, but from what I recall teams have _rules_. Rules like no workouts before six unless you want to, you always get extra cream with your coffee, if you’re gonna eat a donut you pick the one loaded with the most frosting and sprinkles, and ice cream is an acceptable lunch on days that end with ‘Y’.”

She was grinning by the end, and her smile lit up his whole world in that moment. 

His chest was swelling, and he worked to identify his grounding feeling. 

He felt so fucking proud.

“Those sound like some fan-fucking-tastic rules, Barnesy-boy.” 

“Yeah?” He was grinning like an idiot, he knew, eyes sparkling, dimple twinkling, the whole fucking nine, and he didn’t give a shit.

“Yeah,” she breathed. 

That hitch in her breath wasn’t for tears this time, if the darkening in her gaze was anything to go by.

He intentionally closed his expression, shuttering down to gaze at her in mock-seriousness. “Well, there’s only one thing to do now, isn’t there?”

She giggled. “What’s that, Sarg?”

He tickled her sides as he stood and tossed her over his shoulder, bouncing her a few times as he strode towards the door. “It’s time to raid the stash Tony already had brought in for tonight. Your new mission, should you choose to accept it, is to sample each and every pint before the party starts.”

She shrieked with laughter and playfully smacked his ass as he stalked down the hall towards the elevator. 

He may or may not have taken a chomping bite out of her thigh just to hear her giggle more.

~*~

Darcy was slamming into the body bag, one tight punch after another while her stomach plotted its revenge. They’d had ice cream night last night, much to her initial glee. Between her and Sergeant Sexy they’d demolished half the stock before the party even started, and she was buzzing on a sugar high until she kissed him goodnight just before midnight.

This morning, however, was a fucking far different story.

“I told you not to finish that pint of Ben and Jerry’s, doll,” he smirked at her as he held the bag while she fought down another wave of nausea. 

“Shut it, Barnes,” Darcy grumbled, sweat pouring down her face as she doubled over onto her knees, trying and failing to keep her breakfast down. 

He was on her shit list, what with his super metabolism and his super smile and his super sexy bod just glistening while she was over here, about to toss it, skin beet red, huffing and puffing away.

Steve chimed in, “What would your mother say, young lady? I bet she told you a thousand times that ice cream is not an acceptable breakfast, especially after you also had it for dinner the previous day.” 

The sick amusement in Steve’s voice made her throw up a middle finger as she swayed on her feet. She would _not_ vomit in front of Cappy and Sergeant Sexy this morning, even if she was actually thrilled they were getting along so well, because that was totally awesome and deserved some celebration.

Still, a girl had to have _some_ pride, and after the ugly cry to end all ugly cries yesterday she’d take what she could get. 

Not that Sharky hadn’t been an absolute _dream_. All soothing muscly arms (who was she kidding, the metal was sexy as fuck and she now had a serious thing for it), patient smiles, and the cutest little speech about how they were a team.

It was adorable.

It warmed her fucking heart just thinking about it, made her all tingly and giddy inside.

Until they laughed at her again.

At which point Darcy gave up all pretense, sat back on her butt, and wrapped her arms around her knees. 

Sergeant Sexy handed her a water bottle, lightly running his metal hand through her hair. “C’mon, doll, drink some water. You need to rehydrate,” his voice was soft, the amusement tempered a bit when he saw how pale she was becoming. 

“Yeah, yeah. Like you care,” she grumbled, grabbing the bottle roughly out of his hand and choking a few sips down. 

Steve sighed, shaking his head. “Well, I’ve got a briefing with Stark in a few, so how about we call it a day?” 

They’d been training since nine this morning, and it was almost two by now. She nodded with vigor, and Cappy and his Sergeant both actually shared a fit of giggles. 

They _giggled_.

Like _boys_.

Asshats.

She wasn’t about to admit how heartwarming _that_ was, too. No sir-ee.

Darcy rolled her eyes, “Yes, please. Please lets be done for today. Please lets be done for this _week_. This _year_. This-” 

Sharky leaned in close to her ear, voice rumbling with amusement and something she couldn’t quite place in the haze of nausea. “Now now, doll. No need to beg.”

She snorted at that, throwing the bottle at him and reaching her hand out. “Help me back to our room, Jim-Bob.” 

He stood with a smirk, his hands clutching his sleeveless workout hoodie over his heart. “You wound me, doll. I only told ya a few things were off limits, and here you go and pick the one that cuts me to the quick.”

“I’m gonna,” she grumbled, wiping the sweat out of her eyes. “I’m gonna if you don’t behave. You make fun of me one more time, mister, and I’ll be forced to show you where I’m keeping my taser.”

He smiled, leaned down to scoop her up bridal style and strode purposefully towards the elevator. “Who says I don’t intend to do a little reconnaissance to investigate that on my own time? Jarvis, please open the door, I’ve got my hands full.”

“Certainly, sir. Yes, it appears that you do.” 

Jarvis was a bastard.

“I can walk, you know,” she shot for annoyed but resigned, secretly hoping he wouldn’t put her down. 

Actually, part of her was hoping he’d never put her down ever again. 

_Most_ of her was hoping he’d never put her down again. The vast fucking majority of her body wanted to be carried around by James Buchanan Barnes for all of eternity.

“I know you can walk, princess, but you don’t want to. I can feel that too,” he smiled lazily down at her, all flashing teeth and teasing dimple. 

That rogue. James Buchanan Barnes was nothing more than a devilish, debonair, rakish rogue. He walked straight out of one of those dime novels her mother used to read.

Darcy felt her traitorous heart start to race as she blushed, ducking her head into his shoulder. “Sometimes this bond thing really sucks,” she mumbled.

He chuckled as he swung their front door open and walked into their bathroom, dropping her to sit on the sink as he turned to start the shower for her. While he walked back out to go to his room, he called over his shoulder, never looking back. “I don’t know about that. I’m finding it increasingly useful.” 

Darcy slammed the door behind him with mock outrage, but it was all nonsense. 

She was smiling so wide it hurt as she stripped down and jumped into the shower. 

Fucking flirt. 

A thousand plots of revenge flitted through her mind while she was in the shower. She was going to have something to chat about with Natasha on their jog in the morning.

~*~

Darcy tried to pull the baseball cap down lower over her face as she slid into her seat next to Natasha. “Are we really sure he’s ready for this?” She asked as she passed Natasha her beer.

Natasha scoffed, and leaned over Darcy’s lap to smile as Bruce sat gingerly next to Darcy, Sam on his right. “Come on, lighten up a little bit. He’s been working so hard, and on his best behavior. He deserves this.”

Darcy sighed and bit her lip. “I know, I know. It just makes me anxious, him and Steve are spending one on one time together alone and out on the town for the first time.”

Sam choked out a laugh. “I’d hardly call this one on one, considering you bribed the ticket office to get us seats within shouting distance, Darcy.”

She leaned over Bruce to poke him in the knee, “What? Aren’t I supposed to be close, just in case something happens? Isn’t that the point of the bond in the first place?” 

She raised her eyebrows innocently.

She blinked her best southern belle blink.

She’s pretty sure she fooled exactly no one. 

After a full night of sweet, sweet sleep, Darcy woke up feeling like a damn _champ_. She was ready to take on the world. 

She wasn’t the only one, apparently. A few beats after she had poured her first cup of coffee, Sergeant Sexy had burst into their living room whistling and smiling like he’d won a damn Olympic medal, proud as could be. She’d tried to do the Natasha-brow, but his metal arm snaked out, and before she could blink she was flush against his chest as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss on her cheek. “Morning, Darcy doll,” he’d hummed against her skin, before releasing her with a chuckle as she practically ran from the room before she melted into a puddle.

After his ‘Morning Coffee with Sam’, as he called it, he’d pronounced loudly during training that he was ready for some extracurricular activity. She’d frozen, stunned, and got a big black eye to show for it as Natasha landed a roundhouse kick right on her stunned and far too embarrassingly hopeful face. “Not with you, doll, I think you’re the one whose not ready for that,” he’d smirked and winked at her, so damn proud of himself, while she had to press a frozen bag of peas to her face and wish the floor would swallow him whole. 

That fucker and his fucking _winks_. Those baby blues and long lashes could give a girl a heart attack.

Much to Darcy’s amazement and Steve’s glee, Sharky had asked whether they could check another thing off his list and go to a Mets game. He’d grumbled loudly about that one, about how it was a damn shame the Brooklyn Dodgers moved, about how that neighborhood had history and deserved their own team, about how he’d be struck dead before being caught at a Yankees game. So, the Mets it was, and here she found herself creeping a section over and a few rows away while watching him drink a beer and laugh with Steve, looking for the first time in a while like an average person just enjoying a night out with his friend at a ball game.

It made her all fluttery inside, watching him enjoy himself. She saw little glimmers of the man he used to be, in the way he’d flirt with the elderly ladies seated nearby, in the way he’d laugh too loud, in the way he’d say something to make Steve cough and flush. 

“Do you want the one on the left, or the right?” Natasha asked beside her, pulling her out of her thoughts, chomping away on a box of cracker jacks as she gestured with her beer towards the field.

Darcy drug her gaze away from the back of Sharky’s head and towards the field, tilting her head and pretending to purse her lips in thought. 

“An excellent selection we have on display this evening, I see,” she mused with an appreciating grin.

“Oh, absolutely, but you have to go for the right. Look at the ass on that one,” Bruce teased beside her, pitching his voice higher. 

Darcy laughed, shaking her head. “Ya know, I’m gonna go off the rails here and say neither. I want the one on the pitcher’s mound. Do you see that curve? You could wrap your thighs around that one. Yum.”

Bruce snorted and rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he took a sip of his beer, while Natasha hummed appreciatively and mused about whether hip speed correlated to pitching speed. 

“Remind me next time to go to boys night instead of girls night,” Sam drawled, finishing the rest of his beer. 

“And you say men objectify women,” Bruce mocked, nudging Darcy’s shoulder.

“What’s the typical response here? They are the ones who chose to wear that so they have it coming,” Nat teased, leaning over Darcy’s lap to pat his thigh with a wink. 

“I am not getting into this discussion with you ladies again,” Sam called with a laugh, “I’ve learned that what I say is wrong anyways, even when I agree with you. Now, people, show some respect. This is the National Anthem starting,” Sam shot back, rising to stand. 

Darcy leaned her head on Natasha’s shoulder, smiling as she thought about how strange it was to be at a baseball game with two (three? She’d have to ask Sam) Avengers, supervising two super soldiers as they saw their first live baseball game in over seventy years. 

Darcy heard the rumbling of the jets as three combat planes zipped overhead, early for the pre-game flyover as they momentarily drowned out the singer down by the pitchers mound. 

It was loud, loud as _fuck_ actually, and she shared a horrified glance with Sam as everything felt like it just froze. 

Until she felt it. Rolling over her in waves. White-hot rage, blistering its way up her spine and over her arms, burning her skin in intensity, before settling into a coolness chillier than ice. 

“No,” Darcy whispered in horror as she scrambled past Bruce, clamping her hand around Sam’s forearm to drag him down the row to get to the aisle. Darcy scanned through the crowd for a glimpse of him as the commotion continued.

“The Soldier?” Natasha yelled over the singer, running after her as they sprinted towards the next section, hoping over the barrier as people yelled and the Anthem continued in. 

“Where is he? Can you see him?” Darcy was shouting now, frantic as she ran, pushing people as she tried to get there in time. 

“No, too many people? Widow?” Sam was yelling now too as he ran after them, until Natasha yanked Darcy back with a hard snap.

She jerked her chin and slid her eyes over her shoulder as she said “can you handle this? I’ve got a situation here.”

Darcy took one look at Bruce over Natasha’s shoulder and nodded firmly. Bruce, whose skin was starting to turn a light shade of green as his anxiety kicked into gear.

“You stay and help Bruce! I’ve got this! I can do this.”

“You can, and you will,” Nat shouted, turning to rest her hands on Bruce’s face as she tried to calm him down. “I’ve got this!” She called over her shoulder.

Then Darcy was running again, sprinting, directed by the horrified cries and shouts as people scattered a few rows over in the distance while the singer sang of the rockets’ red glare. 

It almost happened in slow motion, the rows thinning, the horrified pointing. Everything faded into gray until there he was, right in the middle, lit up in full color. Face cold, eyes hard, metal arm shifting, gleaming with the fading sunlight, as he held Steve a foot off the air, legs dangling as he clawed and tried to pry his fingers free. 

The Winter Soldier. 

“Sharky!” she shrieked, closing the distance and moving so he could see her through the crowd. She could hear Steve pleading, his eyes full of hurt as he tried not to panic, tried to hold back from using force to get away. 

When she was the row behind them, Steve met her eyes, his face full of panic and relief. “Help… him,” he choked out, thick muscles in his neck flexing as he tried to keep the metal fist from crushing his windpipe.

“Sharky?” She called softly, trying to still her racing heart, trying to calm her nerves. 

Nothing. He didn’t blink, didn’t turn his head, didn’t acknowledge her. 

Why wasn’t it working? Was it because she was panicking?

Should she try to be more in tune with him?

She inhaled deep and exhaled through her nose, forcing her body to stop shaking, forcing her heart to slow. 

One breath in for courage, one out for calm. She was a ninja assassin warrior goddess. She could do this.

She could _do_ this.

Fuckity fuck fuck _fuck_.

“Soldier?” Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, while the crowds cheered as the singer praised the home of the free and the brave. 

She didn’t need to shout. Quiet showed strength, too. She’d read that in one of the self-help books Sam gave her.

His metal fingers flexed, body loosening enough for Steve to suck in a breath as his cold stare turned to meet her in the eyes. “That’s enough, Soldier.” She tried for firm, tried for authority, spoke with her best fucking ninja assassin warrior goddess voice.   
It shook, try as she might to steady it, but he heard her, and just as suddenly as he was squeezing, his hand was releasing and Steve was settling back on the ground, rubbing his throat as he picked up their jackets. 

“We have to get out of here, Darcy,” Steve yelled, moving to grab her arm.

The Soldier snarled, metal fist clamping like a vice down on the forearm connected to the hand that had brushed her wrist. 

“No, Soldier! No! Bad! Steve is your friend, too. No!” She tried to blink the tears free as she shook her head firmly. He growled and sneered with disgust as he threw Steve’s arm away from Darcy forcefully, before shifting his feet to stand directly in front of her, cold eyes glinting into her own. 

She leaned towards him, one lonely tear rolling down her cheek, and swallowed down the rest of her sadness, the rest of her fear. 

She could _do_ this, damn it. She _could_.

“Come back to me now, Soldier,” she whispered firmly, eyes boring into his. 

She saw him flicker, just a bit. The conflict playing out over the mask of his face. A whisper of emotion, a hint of understanding. 

“You are James Buchanan Barnes, and your mission as the Soldier is over now. Come back to me now, James,” she whispered again, eyes hopeful as she saw the gray and blue in his shift and meld and fight for dominance.

With a tentative hand and a heart full of hope, she reached out towards him to lightly stroke his face, fingers ghosting over the five o’clock shadow that never quite went away. He shuddered, his entire body flexing and releasing as his arms came around her, lifting her over the row of seats to press her flush against him as his mouth came down to devour her own, lips sliding, tongue gliding as he held her tight. She kissed him with everything she had, pouring in all she had to give as she pressed her lips to his, teased his tongue with hers, wound the fingers of one had through his hair as the others continued to scratch against his cheek. 

When he pulled back, gasping for breath, there were tears in his eyes as he pressed his forehead tightly against hers. 

~*~

Natasha, Bruce, and Sam joined Steve as he watched them with a stunned expression on his face at the end of the row. “She just _kissed_ the Winter Soldier out of him, you guys,” he mumbled in disbelief, rubbing the stiffness out of his neck.

“Who knew he just needed a little love?” Nat teased, elbowing Bruce with a wink as he blushed furiously. 

“I’ll have to have Jarvis add that to the tac books first thing tomorrow,” Sam laughed as he tilted his beer in a toast.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is cheesy and fluffy and I'm not the least bit sorry about it.
> 
> Enjoy <3

They had all ended up staying for the rest of the game. They’d mobbed together and had flat out ignoring his loud protests and profuse apologies as they bribed the kids in Darcy’s original section to take Steve and his seats so they could all sit together. Darcy’s fingers were twined tightly with his metal, and she leaned on his shoulder as she held his arm tight with her other hand. 

Steve was on his other side, refusing to acknowledge that twenty minutes prior his best friend in the entire world had almost choked him to death.

He breathed out forcefully and identified his feelings.

Guilt. God, the guilt. He felt overwhelmingly guilty, so lost and hurt it damn near swallowed him whole. Stevie, of course, just took it all in stride, laughing and returning to their previous conversation as if nothing had happened. Just a clap on the back and a _don’t even worry about it, Buck_.

Shit, it didn’t even bother him hearing the nickname, because he just felt so fucking _bad_.

Not like he would have expected anything less from Steve. That punk just couldn’t stay out of trouble and didn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

He sat silent for awhile, metal thumb stroking Darcy’s as he held his ball cap tight on his head, while the others buzzed around him, cracking jokes mostly at Sam’s expense, and throwing back beers like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

Like he hadn’t just lost control and threatened an entire stadium with his very existence.

Like Darcy hadn’t just necked with the goddamned Winter Soldier in a goddamned baseball park.

Under all that guilt, he felt a little spark of hope, too. ‘Cause his girl _had_ just necked with the goddamned Winter Soldier in a goddamned baseball park.

And, miracle of all miracles, it actually _was_ alright.

“Listen, Leave it to Beaver, you can’t honestly tell me a bare thigh isn’t sexier than one under a billowing dress,” Darcy piped up over his lap. 

He tried to pick up the strands of conversation fluttering around him, making mental notes of anything that sounded like a reference to ask Darcy or Sam later.

They were now having a heated debate about women’s clothing, of all things. 

Steve was insistent that the more modest dresses of the forties were sexier than the skin tight, skimpy dresses girls Steve claimed dames preferred to wear out nowadays. “It’s all about the mystery, ladies. We don’t need to see each and every curve to know they’re there. Leave something to the imagination, will ya?” Steve drawled, eyes twinkling as he saw the increasing irritation from both Natasha and Darcy.

“Is that what you think?” Natasha asked Bruce with a raised eyebrow. He watched her smirk as Bruce flushed and choked on his beer. 

“I think I don’t have an opinion on this particular topic,” Bruce said carefully, eyes firmly planted on the hitter. 

“So you think our outfits are slutty,” Darcy said flatly, eyes narrowed as she glared across his lap at Steve.

She was beautiful like this, wild curls tumbling out from under a backwards ball cap, a tight green t-shirt with the words _Keep Calm or Hulk Out_ in white across her chest. 

Now that he thought about it, he’d also seen a Captain America shirt the other day. 

How many of those did she have? Where were they coming from?

Did she have one for him?

He blanched, picturing _Comply_ shirt, and desperately fought to shake that notion when he felt Darcy squeeze his hand.

Steve coughed, blushing furiously as he shifted in his seat. “Now, that’s not what I’m saying. You ladies dress real nice. I just don’t think…”

“You honestly think we don’t notice when you two geriatrics stare at our ‘curves’ while we spar in training?” Natasha was smirking now, both eyebrows raised daring Steve to deny it.

Steve sputtered, but he felt himself just shrugging along.

Of course he’d stared. He’d have to be blind not to.

“I know I certainly have,” he found himself saying in response, voice low.

Well, shit. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He felt himself blush like fucking school boy when he realized he’d said it loud enough for the whole damn group to hear. 

Darcy smirked at him, one eyebrow cocked tauntingly. “Oh, is that so, Sarg?”

The dame was full out gloating now. He felt her lean in close, her breast pushing into his metal arm as her lips brushed lightly against his cheek. “So, which do you prefer? Dresses from the forties, or what we ‘dames’ wear now?” She was practically purring into his ear, and he swallowed hard as he tried to block his arousal from his mind to keep her from knowing how much she affected him.

“I wouldn’t know, doll,” he said carefully, flashing her a lazy smile. “Can’t make a fair opinion until I’ve seen enough to judge.” He felt her shiver at his words as her eyes dropped closed a bit and her tongue peaked out to lick her bottom lip. 

He added in a wink for good measure, and felt lust lick across his skin.

_Ha._ Point for Sergeant Sex Barnes.

Now _that_ would be a phrase for a t-shirt he could get behind.

“That settles it, then,” Natasha announced triumphantly, slumping back in her seat. 

“How does that settle anything at all?” Steve snorted in amusement, rolling his eyes as he took a swig of his beer.

Natasha shrugged like it was obvious. “Tomorrow night is Friday and we don’t have any missions on the docket. Barring a disaster, we’ll all get dressed up and go to a big band club I know down the street from the tower. Saturday, we’ll all dress up again and go to a contemporary one. Then we’ll see which one you prefer, _Cappy_ ” She smirked and winked at the end, while Steve narrowed his eyes.

Darcy cackled beside him, morphing it into some sort of adorable little evil laugh. “Yes! I was so hoping that nickname was going to take off!” Darcy cheered, slapping her hand down on his thigh. 

“Challenge accepted,” Steve drawled, rolling his eyes. 

“Don’t think you’re getting out of this, dudes,” Darcy said slyly as she leaned over to wink at Bruce and Sam. “It’s team bonding, so everybody in town is going. I’m sending a calendar appointment as we speak.”

He coughed, sputtering a bit on the sip of Darcy’s beer he had innocently lifted out of her cupholder. “I’m not so sure…”

“You’re going,” she said firmly, sitting back in her seat. 

As he learned the first day they moved in together, one didn’t say no to Darcy Lewis. 

She whipped around and narrowed her eyes at him. “Hey, did you always have that beer?” She looked around while he blinked innocently down at her. “Where’s mine?”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, dollface. I’ve had this the whole time.” 

~*~

Darcy groaned loudly at the mirror as she tried for the tenth time to twist and curl her hair to get the little finger waves just right, before finally giving up altogether and letting the bastards fall where they may to loosely wave around her face and back. Pursing her lips, she applied her bright red lipstick, sighing as she surveyed the finished product. 

It would have to do.

She’d feel a hell of a lot more confident if she knew this was what she was _supposed_ to look like. As it is, she felt more like she was playing dress up, except instead of going to a fun costume party she was instead trying to seduce the man who was a literal panty dropper back in his day.

Well, and today, actually.

Any day.

Any and every day the big guy was _a_ , if not _the_ , panty dropper.

But he called her his girl and kissed her goodnight and it didn’t escape her notice that there was a mini pack of peanut butter M&Ms on her pillow each and every night.

She could do this.

She could do this.

She didn’t even know what _this_ was but she could _do_ it, damnit. She could put this dress on and feel like a gazillion, trillion bucks, and be confident and sexy and not at all awkward or anxious.

She could totally do that. 

Darcy took her dress off the hanger and stepped into it, her back turned towards the mirror. She’d gone shopping earlier, with Tony of all people, and she couldn’t help but admit she liked the little dress they’d picked out together much more than the first one she’d bought. 

He’d been on his way out the front of the tower when she was on her way in with the thrift store dress slung over her shoulder. He had peered at her for all of five seconds over his designer shades before he snagged her wrist, tossed her dress in the nearest trash bin, and drug her off to his waiting limo. 

Without so much as a _Hello, Darcy, you look radiant today as always_. Just a “You can thank me later, when we take you from Julia Roberts pre-Rodeo Drive to Julia Roberts post-Rodeo Drive.” 

She’d protested, right up until they pulled up in front of a chic boutique, the kind which housed dresses that cost more than her college tuition. 

Then she’d shut her mouth and shrugged. 

If he was buying, who was she to complain, anyways?

The little beauty selected was fire engine red to match her lipstick, with little white polka dots covering the flowing silk. Little cap sleeves held it up over her shoulders, and the neckline dipped down into a V-shape that curved to cup around her breasts. It clung to her curves and cinched with a tie of the same material around her natural waist, before flowing in pleats to her knees. 

She had patent white leather pumps to finish it off, and though they definitely were _not_ vintage shoes, she couldn’t care less. 

_Those_ beauties raised her ass, pushed her breasts forward, and made her feel like a fucking _queen_. 

As she turned to take it all in in the mirror, she couldn’t help the sly smile spreading over her face. 

She looked hot as _fuck_. 

She had somehow bumbled into artfully arranged curls tumbling in a care-free, fuck me six ways to Sunday manner, bright blue eyes that popped, big sultry kissable lips, and the kind of curves that made waking up a six in the morning to jog every morning almost worth it.

Screw all that ‘do I look good’ or ‘gah I’m so unsure and insecure’ bullshit. 

She was a badass, ninja assassin warrior goddess _queen_.

She was a _knockout_.

James Buchanan Barnes wasn’t going to know what hit him.

Darcy heard voices out in their living room and hurriedly spritzed on a bit of perfume before striding out to see what had Bruce actually giggling with laughter. She stepped into the room, and her jaw dropped with a mixture of amusement and feigned outrage. “What in the hell are you wearing?!”

Natasha had her hair done up in curls wrapped around a black shimmery headband, and was wearing a strappy little black flapper dress that, among being from the wrong decade, was also far to short to be considered appropriate even _then_. “What,” she said innocently with a little shrug and a smirk. 

“That is in no way from the forties, Natasha Romanoff, and you know it,” Darcy said with a snort. 

Natasha pursed her lips with a smile and winked at Bruce, who was looking incredibly suave in his all-black suit with black undershirt. “I don’t hear you complaining,” she teased. 

Bruce rolled his eyes and shook his head, curly hair dancing as his lips tugged into a wry grin. “You’re the one whose going to stand out, not me,” he drawled, eyes roaming over her appreciatively. 

He was _blushing_ , that adorable little science! nerd.

Natasha just shrugged. “Since when has that stopped me before? By the way, those pumps aren’t period appropriate either, miss hypocrite,” she said with a smirk.

Darcy grinned and did a little spin, raising her arms out. “What? They helped show off my ‘mysterious curves’, as Steve put it,” she giggled.

“Speaking of,” Natasha murmured, two seconds before the door to the suite unlocked and swung open.

That woman had the ears of a bat.

“Good evening, ladies,” Steve crooned from where he lounged casually against the doorway in a gray pinstripe suit, eyes roaming between the two of him before his eyes snapped back to Natasha. 

It was the first time Darcy recalled seeing the ‘sad Grandpa Cappy’ face directed towards someone else. 

The ‘how could you do this to America’ face.

The ‘I expected more from you Romanoff’ face.

It was liberating.

All he got was the Natasha-brow in response. 

The two shared some unspoken conversation for a few beats before he snorted. “At least you tried, I suppose,” he shook his head as he walked in to hand her and Natasha each a single white rose.

“My, my. Maybe a girl could get used to the forties after all,” Darcy teased, winking as she stepped into the kitchen to pull out a vase. 

“No kidding. Where’s your partner in crime?” Natasha called, joining her at the counter and slipping her rose in with hers. 

Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance towards the door. “Still primping with Tony. The vainness apparently didn’t disappear no matter how many times they wiped him,” he teased, and Darcy found herself laughing along with the others. 

“No Sammy?” Darcy asked with a frown.

Steve just shrugged. “Someone needed help. Comes with the territory, doll.”

_Boo._

Darcy pulled a face but nodded.

“Ladies and gentleman,” Jarvis’ voice came in overhead. “May I present to you, Master Tony Stark.”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Natasha shook her head in amusement, as Tony strolled in.

Looking every bit a pimp with his had tilted and his fake black cane. 

Even more disturbingly, the look kind of _worked_. 

Not that she would ever, in a billion years, admit that fact out loud. Not _ever_.

“I am not going out in public with you,” Darcy announced, her eyes wide with mock horror as she shook her head. 

“How about with me, Darcy doll?” 

Her heart just about stopped when her eyes opened wide and her lips formed a perfect “O”.

He was breathtaking. 

He was devastatingly handsome. 

He was, in a word, _swoonworthy_.

Maybe that wasn’t a word. It probably wasn’t, but seriously, who cared. Her brain was kind of short-circuiting with the hotness on display before her.

He was wearing a black pinstripe suit with a gray dress shirt underneath, hair pulled back into a little bun at the base of his skull, face shaved completely smooth, eyes twinkling when he saw her openly staring at him. 

Gaping.

She was gaping.

Oh my god, was she _drooling_?

Darcy audibly and embarrassingly snapped her jaw shot and bit her lip.

She felt like the biggest idiot on the _planet_ but she just couldn’t stop _staring_ and oh my god was she drooling again?

Finally, _finally_ , his smirk died and his eyes roamed her face and slid down to take in her dress as she stepped out from behind the counter. Then _he_ froze, and wore the same awed expression she was sure was written all over her face.

Thank Thor. They were _both_ idiots. 

That was fine.

_That_ she could work with.

“We’ll head down to the car and give you kids a moment,” Tony drawled, turning with a swish and waving for the others to follow him as they snickered and winked. 

Cappy even _wolf whistled_.

Sergeant Sexy was smiling wide, and her heart started to race as he casually strolled up to her, close enough she had to crane her neck up to look him in the eyes. His hand reached up to lightly brush against her cheek. “Beautiful, doll,” he breathed, eyes twinkling into hers.

Darcy blushed, lowering her eyes as she smiled shyly at him. “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome,” she said, peaking up at him from under her lashes. 

She heard him groan when she caught her plump lower lip between her teeth and filed that little note away to play with later. Darcy smiled up at him coyly while he brushed her face. He captured her hand, pulling it so her arm was circled through his as he turned and led them towards the elevator to join the others. “You’d try the patience of a Saint, you know that?” He teased, winking as she blushed again and smiled up at him. 

“Oh, you mean this old thing? Just something I had lying around, you know. Gathering up dust in the old wardrobe” Darcy chuckled, following him into the elevator. 

He unwound her arm from his and held her out from him, leading her in a twirl in front of him before catching her by the waist and pulling her within inches of his chest. He leaned down, lips grazing her ear as he whispered. “Maybe we need to take this thing out for a spin more often then, what do you say, doll.” 

Darcy was flushed and giggling, as the doors opened and the others turned to see they’d joined them. 

“Come on, we gave you a moment! You’re pretty, he’s pretty, I look fucking fantastic. Let’s go already!” Tony whined at the door, huffing with annoyance as he pushed it wide and let them out to the street. 

“Would you allow me to escort you this evening, Darcy doll?” He whispered dangerously in her ear before pulling back to smile lazily at her.

Darcy was pretty sure her heart was going to stop before the night was over, and she was even more sure she didn’t give a flying _fuck_. 

“It would be my pleasure, Sergeant Barnes,” she said saucily, winking at him as she wound her arm once again through his, walking with him out into the cool spring night.

She thought she just might have the upper hand until he whispered into her ear, “Don’t you mean Sergeant Sex Barnes?”

Right as she was stepping into the car, making her stumble and pretty much tumble into Cappy’s waiting lap.

The lap which she accidentally explored a bit too thoroughly as she grappled for purchase before he basically dumped her onto the floor of the fucking limo.

“Uh, sorry Darce, uh, I just-“

“Find anything interesting down there?” Natasha cut in with a grin, gesturing with her hands and holding them both apart. “Stop me when I’m close,” she slowly widened them while Steve flushed crimson and Darcy laughed, settling herself into the crook of Sharky’s arm. 

“A lady doesn’t tell,” she snarked as Tony cackled. 

~*~

Darcy felt his arm tense under her fingers and his anxiety spike as they exited the taxi in front of the big band club Natasha had found. She shot a questioning glance at Sharky as the sound of the music thumping had her starting to sway her hips involuntarily. “You okay, big guy?” 

He took a deep breath as he wrapped her arm through his before nodding and giving her a confident smile. “Yeah, doll. Just don’t want a repeat of my last public outing.”

Darcy feigned a pout and batted her eyelashes up at him as he held the door for her and they followed their friends into the club. “Was kissing me that bad, Sarg-eroony?” 

As they came up to the table Tony had reserved he pressed his chest into her back and dipped his head down to whisper in her ear. “The absolute worst, doll,” he teased, voice rumbling in her ear and sending butterflies scattering over her skin. 

Darcy shook her head as a blush climbed up from her chest to her cheeks, and he chuckled in amusement and pressed a light kiss to the side of her neck.

She just _knew_ that fucker was smirking when he heard her sigh as she fell back against his chest. “Mmm, I wondered,” he whispered into her ear before stepping back and around her to lean casually against the table.

“Wondered what?” Darcy flashed a dimple as she smiled up at him with twinkling eyes.

“How far down you blushed,” he licked his lip with a smirk as the pink on her cheeks deepened into red. 

Darcy narrowed her eyes, biting back a smile and smacking his arm as Natasha interrupted before she could respond. 

Which was a blessing, really. 

A god damned miracle. 

Because she was breathless already and her head was spinning and she was pretty sure anything she said wouldn’t be half as clever out loud as it sounded in her mind.

She hadn’t even had a _drink_ yet, for Thor’s sake. 

“A toast! To prude women and even pruder dresses!” Natasha winked, raising her glass of champagne as Tony poured the rest.

“For your information, it would be more prude. Pruder isn’t even a word,” Steve snipped with a smile. He rolled his eyes and raising his glass. “To old friends and new, and times spent with all of you.”

“God, could you be any cheesier, Cappy?” Natasha sneered with a wink, nodding for the others to raise their glasses. 

“To us,” Darcy cheered, raising hers with a grin.

After tossing down her drink, Darcy found her hips starting to sway. She couldn’t help but admit there was something definitely appealing about a live band with a full brass blasting music from the stage at the front of the dance floor.

“I feel like we’re in that scene from Pearl Harbor,” Natasha yelled over the music, smiling as she started to dance a little while she downed the rest of her champagne. 

Steve snorted, rolling his eyes. “That was the most inaccurate movie of the century, by the way,” he called, before extending a hand to Natasha. “Care to join me in a dance, Ms. Widow?”

Natasha smiled, placing her palm in his with a wink. “Why, Mr. America, I thought you’d never ask,” she teased, following him out to the floor.

“I’m starting to realize we have sorely miscalculated the number of ladies we should have invited,” Tony drawled, eyes scanning the room. “I can’t believe Pepper couldn’t come tonight. Join me up at the bar?” He tossed to Bruce as his eyes lit on three ladies sitting by themselves at the bar top.

“I think I’ll pass, I’m good here,” he said with a smile, watching Steve and Natasha swirl around the floor.

“How about you, doll?” Sharky whispered in her ear, voice rough like sandpaper. “Would you do me the honor?” 

Darcy bit her lip. 

Dancing.

_Dancing._

Shit shit _shit_. 

How had it not occurred to her for even one second that she had no idea how to _dance_ dance and this was the worst idea ever and she was about to make a _fool of herself_ and _oh my god_. “I’m not so sure-”

He winked at her, catching her hand and tugging her after him onto the floor. “It’s easy. All you have to do is hold on, I lead and you follow. As it should be,” he said with a laugh as she narrowed her eyes at him.

Dancing.

Okay, dancing.

She could do this, right? 

She could totally do this.

Natasha was doing it, so she could too.

That was a horrible example for confidence purposes, actually.

He pulled her close, bringing her other hand up to his shoulder as he rested his on her waist and started to spin her around the floor. Darcy started to laugh a little breathlessly as he spun her faster and faster, literally dancing sweeping circles around Natasha and Steve, and before she knew it the room was spinning and everything was fading away as she stared up into the ocean blue eyes smiling back at her. 

As the song faded and changed and the singer started to croon, he slowed their dancing down to a soft sway and leaned down to hum and whisper the words in her ear. 

_“If they asked me, I could write a book_  
_About the way you walk, and whisper, and look”_

Darcy felt her heart thump heavy in her chest as he kept whispering the words to her, so loud she was sure he could hear it, and she felt she could scarcely breathe as he spun her slowly around the floor. 

She was dizzy, lightheaded and breathless from the sound of his voice in her ear, the feel of his arm wrapped tight around her waist, and she held on tight as he pressed another soft kiss into the side of her neck right below the shell of her ear. 

Then the song changed, the spell was broken, and with a wry smile he pulled back and clasped her hand tightly as he led her back to the table with their friends. 

She was pretty sure she literally groaned out loud in disappointment.

He chuckled and shot her a smile over his shoulder as he tugged her up to their table to rest in front of him. She swallowed down the butterflies as she took a swig of champagne to finish her glass, and she turned her head to watch as Tony led all three ladies from the bar top earlier out onto the dance floor. “You think Pepper will be mad about that?”

Bruce shrugged. “I’ve known them awhile now. He may flirt a little here or there, but he always goes home to Pepper, and she always lets him in.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Well, ladies? What do you think of forties night?” 

“I have to admit, there’s something charming about the simpler life,” Natasha teased, reaching to grab Bruce’s hand and yank him in the direction of the dance floor.

“And what about you?” Steve asked, turning to Darcy with a smile. 

“It’s lovely, I have to admit,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t know you could dance like that,” she turned to James.

His chest puffed out and he stood up straight with a wink. “You’re looking at the two time dance hall champion, doll. I’ve barely shown you a thing.”

Her mouth dropped open and he pulled up short and shook his head in amazement as he realized what he’d just said. Steve laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s right! You’re a lucky girl, Darcy Lewis.”

“You remembered that?” She breathed, eyes shining as she smiled at him.

He bit his lip and raised his eyebrows, shrugging with a smile. “I guess I did,” his voice was hushed as he searched his brain for anything else, any other memories popping in. 

“See? I knew this idea could work,” Steve boasted proudly, squeezing James’ shoulder before turning back to watch Natasha fight to lead with Bruce out on the floor. 

“So you’ve been holding on your moves on me, Sarg?” She raised her eyebrow saucily as she teased him.

He smirked, finishing his re-filled glass of champagne before raising an eyebrow at her. “Not sure you could keep up, doll. Just doing you a favor.”

Darcy huffed and rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a smile. “You wait until tomorrow night, then we’ll see who does who a favor.”

He snorted, crinkling his nose as he shook his head. “I’m not worried. Do your worst.”

She turned so her back was against the table and slid her palm across his rock hard abdomen over the front of his jacket. “My worst isn’t what you should be worried about, big guy,” she said coyly, licking her bottom lip as her fingers ghosted up his jacket over the buttons. 

Was it hot in here? It felt hella hot in here right about now.

Should they take off all their clothes yet? 

Was that a good joke? Oh, god, he was watching her with dark eyes and a little smirk and she couldn’t even hold the thread of a pun anymore because she just wanted to climb him like a god damned tree.

He growled as his metal arm shot out to wrap around her waist and pull her into the circle of his arms, waves of lust rolling over her as she felt his growing arousal warm her inside. “Careful what you’re putting in the water, doll, this shark bites” He growled out, eyes darkening as he watched her tongue poke out to slide over her bottom lip. 

“That settles it!” Steve announced loudly, startling Darcy so she twisted in James’ arms to look over her shoulder at him with a questioning gaze while Natasha and Bruce rejoined them at the table.

“Settles what?” Natasha as curiously, refilling her glass and bumping her shoulder playfully against Bruce’s.

“I’ve got the perfect code names for them once they start doing missions with us!” He pronounced proudly, smiling wide. 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Darcy asked with a smile, leaning back to rest her head on James’ shoulder while his arms came around her to rest his elbows on the table.

“Great White and Shark bait!” He said with a smirk, and Darcy’s jaw dropped while James chuckled behind her and Bruce spit his drink out laughing.

“It’s perfect!” Natasha cheered, raising her glass again in a toast. 

No.

No no no no no no _no_.

_No_. 

“What?! No. No it most certainly is _not_. It is not perfect, its-“ Darcy protested as Steve raised his glass to join Natasha.

“To Great White and Shark Bait!” Steve declared, clinking his glass against Natasha’s.

Bruce’s raised in response as Darcy started again, “Wait! No! I’m not going to be the-“

“To Great White and Shark Bait!” James responded with a broad smile, raising his glass to clink with theirs before they all swallowed.

_No_. 

Darcy rolled her eyes and grumbled up at him, “Who said you’re Great White?”

He ran his nose up over the back of her neck until his lips were pressed against the shell of her left ear, and she felt him smile at the shiver that rolled through her just from his gentle caress. “Is that really a question, doll?” He teased, playfully chomping on the bottom of her earlobe. 

Darcy sighed, tilting her head to the side and trying to fight back the shudder she felt threatening to roll through her while he kissed down the side of her neck to the top of her collarbone. His large hand wrapped around her wrist, and before she could blink he’d spun her around so his chest was pressed tight against hers and he was leaning her back over the table while his lips hovered over hers. 

Jesus fucking _Christ_ it was hot as _fuck_ up in here and she was _losing_ it.

She breathed a little sigh again, closing her eyes before leaning in to press her lips against his smooth cheek, peppering light little kisses up to the bottom of his ear. 

She felt his body tense in response as her tongue came out to trace the bottom of his earlobe before she lightly grazed it with her teeth. “Careful, Sharky,” she whispered into his ear, sliding her free hand over his jacket and up his broad chest. He hummed in response, a low rumble reverberating from his chest into hers as he leaned into her touch. “Be careful. Or before you know it, you might find you’re the prey, after all,” she whispered, before pulling back to catch his lips in a kiss. 

His lips were soft against hers, teasing and sliding until she opened her mouth on a moan and his tongue slipped in to slide with hers as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. He pulled back, kissing her lips closed before pushing his tongue back in, and she closed her lips to suck it lightly, making him groan while his hands pressed her tight to his chest. 

“Get a room!” Tony yelled, returning as they broke away, panting as they smiled into each others eyes. “Now come on, I miss Pepper and I want to go home,” he whined, before motioning with his head towards the door.

James sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. Darcy closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. “What are you doing to me, Darcy doll,” he whispered, before pulling back to press a tender kiss to her forehead as he wrapped his arm around her and led her towards the door.

She wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned into his side as they made their way through the club. “I could ask you the same thing, Sergeant _Sex Barnes_ ,” she giggled. 

He chuckled as he held the door open for her and pressed his hand against the small of her back when she passed in front of him.

Him and his little old-fashioned manners were too adorable for words.

“Whatever we got goin’ on, Darce, in all seriousness I don’t want it to stop,” he whispered into her ear, pulling her back to his side as they made their way towards a taxi.

“Me neither,” she smiled, leaning up to press a kiss against his cheek. 

She was blushing again.

She was blushing and she felt giddy and she was pretty sure she was literally being swept off her feet. 

It was the best feeling in the entire _world_.

“Yeah?” He whispered, a shy little smile on his handsome face as his eyes looked earnestly into hers.

“Yeah,” she whispered back, soft smile spreading as her eyes sparkled up at him while she slid into the taxi. 

“Good,” he rumbled, sliding in beside her and throwing his arm around her shoulder, holding her close. He tucked her head against his shoulder and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “’Cause even though I may not remember, I’m pretty sure this thing we got goin’ on is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispered into her hair. 

Darcy felt her heart swell and start to pound as she pressed her face into his neck, butterflies fluttering in her chest. She giggled as she pressed a soft kiss into his neck. “Well, I do remember, and I am positive that it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she said shyly, ducking her head when he tried to look down at her. 

He hummed as he rested his head on top of hers, closing his eyes. “Thank god,” he teased, brushing his hand through her curls. 

“No, thank Bruce, you know for developing the bond formula and all in the first place” she giggled, making him chuckle as the taxi came to a stop in front of _Avengers_ Tower. 

“Don’t worry, doll,” he said as he pulled her out behind him and scooped her up into his arms bridal style as he strolled towards the door. “I do, every chance I get.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS- while the story is mostly finished, I am constantly adding and changing things. So, if you have any scenes you'd love to see revolving around Sergeant Sexy's to-do list, feel free to drop a comment! If I can, I will work it in! :) I've got a few more plans, but am always up for fun fluff scenes to bring the story to life!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quite a ride, friends. We've got NSFW content, we've got action, we've got feels. It is too long but I couldn't find a good place to split it and I didn't want to have a cliffhanger so, here's the whole enchilada.
> 
> Enjoy <3

_The coolness of his metal fingers sent shivers dancing across her heated skin as his hand traced circles over her belly and thighs, teasing her with feather light kisses while his lips pressed light kisses to her neck. She was moaning beneath him, body writhing as her desperation for release climbed to a fever pitch._

_“Please,” Darcy sighed, twisting, hands gripping his broad shoulders tight as she felt flesh hands slide slowly up her thighs. He was panting raggedly into her ear, pushing his hardness into the outside of her thigh while his fingers crept higher, higher, higher yet still so fucking far from where she needed them._

_Her back arched as one calloused finger traced the apex of her thighs, gathering wetness on his fingertip as he growled into her ear. “God damnit, Darcy,” his rough voice crackling with need._

_“Please,” she whined, thrusting her hips up to try to catch his hand, demanding more._

_With a groan that same thick finger teased her folds, circling around where she needed him most, before pushing into her with a growl. “Mine,” he whispered in her ear as her body started to ride his hand._

_“Yours,” she whimpered, head thrown back as she bit her lip to hold off a scream. Her headboard was banging against the wall in time with the rhythm he was creating between her thighs, and she felt her legs shake as she neared release._

_“Darcy,” he called, voice suddenly becoming farther away as the banging increased._

_“Darcy!”_

_Was he shouting at her now? She was so close, body twisting, sweat running down her back as she chased her orgasm._

“God damnit, doll, open the fucking door!” 

Darcy’s eyes snapped open, taking in the darkness of her empty room, seeing his heavy shadow and the brightness of their living room spilling in under the crack in her door. Her heart leapt into her throat as she yanked her hand out of her panties, cheeks flaming as she realized she’d been dreaming.

Oh, no.

No no no no _no_.

It was a dream? It was a dream and not real and oh my _Thor_ if it was a dream and she was actually this wet did that mean he _knew_?

“H-hang on!” She called shrilly, body protesting as she still hadn’t found her release. 

Fuckity fuck fuck _fuck_. 

She just needed a hot ten seconds with BOB and this problem would no longer _be_ a problem, but she didn’t have the time.

“I can’t take much more doll,” he huffed. She heard him lean against her door as she extracted herself from the twist of sheets and fought to slow her breathing. 

In, out, in, out. BOB was so going to work overtime in the very, very, _very_ near future. Wiping her drenched fingers on her shorts with a grimace, she padded over to the door.

She sucked in another deep breath. She should keep it casual, right? Pretend he hadn’t just kept her from a blissed out wake up? 

Pretend he hadn’t literally just _caught her with her hand down her pants?_

Yes, she nodded to herself, and swung the door open with a breathless smile.

“It _felt_ like you were having a nice dream, sweetheart, sorry to interrupt you,” he teased her, smirking as he emphasized the word felt. 

Fuck.

Her cheeks turned a pretty pink as she shyly raised her eyes to his, seeing his pupils blown wide with lust for her. 

You know what, fuck BOB. Maybe she could talk the real-fucking-deal right into taking over where dream Sergeant Sex Barnes let off?

Now, how did one seduce a panty dropper. Be blunt? Be coy? She licked her lip in thought and blushed when she realized she’d been caught staring.

It did not escape her notice that he hungrily watched her tongue, his eyes drooping into a look that was almost predatory.

Teasing. That could be a start.

“You should be,” she flirted back with a coy smile, biting her lower lip. “Dream James will be very disappointed,” she hummed.

His eyelids went from three-quarter to a full on half-mast as he watched her teeth catch her lower lip. “Dream James?” His voice gritty like sandpaper, teasing her senses and making her wet once more.

Well, once more was a stretch. It wasn’t like her libido had switched off at the thought of being caught.

To be honest, it _might_ have kicked things up a notch in the ‘hot thoughts’ department.

“Mmm,” she hummed in agreement, nodding. “He was-” she broke off in a sigh, her eyes slowly closing as her tongue darted out to wet her lips, “magnificent,” she finished with a coy smile, watching as his body drifted closer to hover over hers, a mixture of desire and pain spreading over his features.

The pain caught her attention.

The pain was actually alarming and shut her libido right the fuck down.

“What is it?” She asked him, all teasing gone.

He groaned, pulling his hand over his face as he shook his head to clear it. “It seems Hydra decided one Winter Soldier wasn’t enough for this world,” he said quietly, chewing in the side of his cheek. 

“What does that mean?” 

He grimaced, frown pulling at his deliciously full lips as his eyes shifted before finally meeting hers. “It means, there’s a training base in Russia with a few new super soldiers, and we have to take them out.”

She nodded, heart leaping into her throat as she saw the resignation on his face. “When do we leave?” She asked firmly, steadying her voice.

His eyes widened in alarm and he shook his head fiercely. “Not we, doll. I can’t have you there.” She felt his fear roll over her as he gripped her arms firmly.

“We can’t send you in without her,” Steve’s voice called from the doorway to their living room, where he lounged against it. 

Nice of Cappy to just make himself at home, lounging about and being the literal cockblock that kept her from dragging Sergeant Sex Barnes straight into her bed as soon as this discussion had ended.

Nice, indeed.

Sergeant Sexy whipped around, shielding her with his body as he practically growled at Steve. “What do you mean?” 

Steve shrugged, but his expression was serious. “We can’t trust you without her yet, and we need you to go. Nat and Sam and I talked, and we think if you go that means she’s coming, too.”

The low growl now rippled out of Sharky’s throat, and Darcy placed a delicate hand on his shoulder as she leaned up to whisper in his ear. “It’s okay, big guy, I don’t mind.”

She poked her head around Sharky’s broad, _broad_ shoulders to eye Cappy. “How long do we have?” 

“Well,” Steve mused, tilting his head as he crossed his arms. “Tony needs to track down the exact location, and then we have to clear a strategy.”

James shifted his shoulders, raising an eyebrow. “Well?”

“A month,” Steve said simply turning as he strolled out of the room. “Maybe two,” he called over his shoulder.

“Damnit,” James roared, turning to punch his fist clear through her door behind her. She could feel his anger and fear flowing off of him, and raised her hands to press two palms to his taunt chest.

“We’ll be ready,” Darcy said softly, nodding firmly at him as she felt his muscles tense and shift beneath her hands. She slid her arms around him and pressed her body close to snuggle into his chest. 

She could feel the sadness and fear leeching off him as he nearly crushed her when he wrapped his arms tightly around her. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered into her hair as she started to stroke her hands soothingly up and down his muscular back.

“You won’t,” she said, swallowing down her fear as she closed her eyes and held him tight. “We’ll be ready.”

~*~

After training with Natasha in the wee hours of the morning (after ten, because she had some business with BOB that needed attending) she’d headed up to Sam’s office with the thought that the only way to really tackle this Winter Soldier thing was to greet it head-on.

“You know what we need to do, right?” Darcy plopped down onto the couch in Sam’s office and slid a mug and two donuts onto the coffee table and in his direction. 

He shrugged. “You don’t need to bribe me. You know I’m supportive of basically all of your hairbrained schemes thus far. He’s the one who will have to get on board.”

Darcy moped and flopped back dramatically on the couch with a sigh. “He as in Cap-Attack, or he as in Barnesadoodle?”

She watched Sam frown and felt a sinking feeling when he bit into a jelly donut and waved it in front of her. “Both, probably, now that you mention the Cap.”

Well, fuck.

How had she not anticipated sad Grandpa Cappy?

Darcy sighed dramatically. “So, what’s our plan of attack? Do we just come right out with it? Bring it up during training? Have Bruce mention it since everyone is afraid to piss him off?”

Sam laughed and offered a hand to pull her to her feet. “How about we head on down to the gym to float the idea preliminarily, before everybody heads out to shop and primp for tonight?”

Darcy sighed again. 

This was not going to go over well.

~*~

“Saying it went horrible would likely be the biggest understatement of the century,” Darcy grumbled as she walked down the street with Natasha. 

She felt Natasha pat her arm in sympathy. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Oh no,” Darcy whined, “it was totally worse.”

Her and Sam were of the opinion that the best plan way to work _with_ the Winter Solider was to approach him in a similar way to how Natasha worked _with_ the Hulk. Based on hours and hours and _hours_ of research, they both felt it was better to think of the Soldier as more of a separate identity or alter ego part of the big guy, rather than just a ‘mode’. And the only way to get in touch with said alter ego?

Well, she would have to summon him, of course.

“No.” Said big guy was flatly insistent while sad Grandpa Cappy looked like he was having a stroke and a heart attack simultaneously.

“Just think about it,” Darcy started before he cut her off with a cold look. 

“I appreciate what you’re tryin’ to do for me, Darce, but no. Absolutely not.”

Darcy had started to argue, because if there’s one thing she didn’t balk from it was an good old fashioned battle of _le wits_ , when Bruce waved her off. “Don’t you need to go meet with Natasha? Let’s table this for tomorrow and just have a fun time tonight.”

Sergeant Sexy had given her a quick kiss, a pat on her ass, and sent her on her way with a firm look that told her she really should just drop this for now and pick it up again later.

He was lucky he looked so sexy at the time, or she might have entered a battle of _le wits_ for that offense alone.

“By the by, are we going for slutty sexy, or sophisticated sexy?” Natasha asked as they entered the first dress shop. She began to furiously shoving aside racks of dresses as she searched for tonight’s bombshell outfit. 

After last night they had both agreed they _needed_ to prove that while retro was great and all, modern times were where it was at.

“I’m thinking there has to be some kind of happy medium, right? Something that says, I’m a wild ride and all, but you better buy me my own bottle of wine first,” Darcy called back with a grin, pulling out a halter dress with a low scoop back. “What do you think of this one?”

Darcy flicked her eyes over to see Natasha had pursed her lips and was shaking her head. “I think the yellow might wash you out, but I now have a better understanding of the look we’re going for. I’ll just put this sequined dress back,” she teased.

“That’s one trend I’ll never understand,” Darcy said with a laugh, turning to scope out the rack behind her.

“Ah ha!” Natasha yelled, sauntering off to the dressing room with a little black number thrown over her shoulder. 

Darcy huffed in frustration, eye scanning the racks until another black dress hung in the very back corner caught her eye. _Hello there, gorgeous._ She scooped it off the rack and headed into the room beside Natasha’s, throwing off her clothes and pulling the dress on.

“On the count of three?” Darcy called over the top of the wall separating their rooms.

“One, two, three!” Natasha called back, both doors swinging open wide on three.

Darcy was beyond fucking pleased to find out that Natasha was also making the ‘we look hot as all _fuck_ face’ and answered with her own sly grin. “Those boys don’t stand a chance, do they?” 

Natasha’s catlike smile spelled a world of trouble for Bruce, and man was _that_ going to be a blast to watch. She may need to up her bet to tonight. “About as much as a poor baby seal all alone in deep water,” Natasha said with a wink. 

“Oh, ha ha, fuck you too,” Darcy flipped her the bird as she rolled her eyes.

She was an avid viewer of Shark Week after all, she got the damn pun. Seals were of course a prime delicacy for great white sharks. 

“Aside from the fact that I have no intention of going on missions, answering to Shark Bait over a com is firmly in the never going to fucking happen column on my to-do list,” she grumbled.

It did not escape her notice that Natasha chose not to respond.

Words. Fifty thousand words. Her and Cap-Attack were going to have one billion fifty thousand words over that little codename. 

Because it was not happening.

It was absolutely _not_ happening.

Over her goddamned _dead body_ was that shit happening.

“Little black dress night, it is!” Natasha cheered, cat-walking like it was New York fashion week over to the mirror to twist and turn in front of it. She was wearing a tight black dress with one bare shoulder and two straps going the other, with cutouts down the side starting at the top of her rib cage, all the way down to where the dress skated the top of her thighs. 

“And who are we wearing that slinky little dress for, anyways?” Darcy teased with an innocent grin, sauntering up beside her to turn and take in her own dress. 

Her cat-walk needed a bit of work, if the judgment of the three-way mirror was anything to go by. She looked a little less fashion week and a little more ‘little girl in momma’s heels’.

Her very own little black dress was a form-fitting number with a sweetheart neckline and a lace overlay that covered her arms. The dress simple yet sexy, hugged her curves, stopped just at the top of her thigh, and barely covered her ass.

Sharky was going to _die_.

Natasha was also an excellent diverter, Darcy noted, because she was no longer put out about the whole summon the Winter Soldier deal. “What do you say we go all out, with blowouts, mani/pedi’s, and stiletto’s to boot?” 

“I think Cappy will die of embarrassment, and we will without a doubt win this little contest. Let’s do it! Our first outing for the sisterhood!” Darcy cheered with a smirk. 

“The what?” Natasha called over the curtain as she walked back into the room to change.

“Nothing, nothing,” Darcy mumbled.

Speaking of the sisterhood, it was about time for some induction shenanigans. She needed to set up a girls night (plus Sam-I-Am) _stat_.

~*~

“You’re really saying we shouldn’t wear suit jackets?” Steve asked the men’s attendant for the third time in as many minutes, as he sighed in exasperation. 

“No, sir,” the man replied blankly, “I’m saying you shouldn’t wear a suit jacket.” James snickered as he looked over the options the attendant had selected for him. Perhaps he’d have been a little more conservative if he could remember proprieties from before, but as it was he was perfectly willing to go with the flow. 

Plus, he had a feeling Darcy was going to be drop dead gorgeous, and Sergeant Sex Barnes needed to keep up. 

“Can I at least wear a blazer?” Steve asked with no small amount of hope leaking into his voice. He was full-out whining, that little punk. 

“Certainly, sir. You may wear whatever you wish, as you, in fact, will be the one wearing it,” the attendant deadpanned, and James couldn’t help but laugh loudly while Steve flushed and strolled over towards the blazers lining the wall. 

Bruce came out of the dressing room in fitted gray dress pants with a matching gray vest over a blue and white stripped dress shirt, sleeves rolled up and sunglasses thrown on. James snickered again when the attendant praised his style while Steve scoffed over his shoulder. 

“Who, exactly, are _you_ trying to impress?” Steve threw over his shoulder as he turned back to rummage through the blazers. 

Bruce’s cheeks pinked a bit as he mumbled “no one” and turned to look at himself in the mirror. 

James strolled over, a few clothes tossed over his shoulder, and clapped Bruce on the back as he passed him to go into a room. “Natalia’s gonna love it, buddy,” he said with a wink, chuckling as Bruce shuffled and smiled timidly. 

“Yeah?” His voice was hesitant, and James smiled widely.

“Yeah. A word of advice? Just assume she does. If you play it confident and cool, you’ll have her wrapped around your pinky by the end of the night,” he said with a grin, shutting the door behind him.

“Cool. Confident.” Bruce repeated it to himself as he turned in the mirror and tossed himself a cocky grin, whipping his sunglasses on and off. 

“You can’t be cool if you say it out loud, Bruce,” Steve chuckled as he passed him and went back into the dressing room with a few blazers and dress shirts. “Just channel your inner James Buchanan Barnes, that’s what I always do.”

He could hear Stevie shuffling around while he tried on several different dress shirts. A peak out the curtain and he watched as Steve came back out a few minutes later in tan dress shoes, dark gray dress pants and a navy blue fitted blazer buttoned over a light blue dress shirt and navy and white polka-dot tie. “What do you think?” He held up his arms and turned in a circle, smiling proudly.

“I think the fact that you just held your arms out and spun in a circle for me means I’m going to ignore any advice you have about being cool from now on,” Bruce laughed with a lazy smirk. “But it looks good man. You’re all set for your next christening.” 

He ducked his head back and adjusted his waist as heard Steve call out, “You gonna make us wait all day, Buc- buddy?” 

“Nice save, _‘buddy’_. Real smooth,” he heard Bruce mumble sarcastically.

He could practically _feel_ Steve ‘innocently’ mouthing what in response. 

That little punk.

Not that it mattered. Much to his surprise, since the ball park the nickname was falling further and further down the list of things that bothered him. He’d been noting down all the triggers he came across and would work through them with Sam, and he was about ready to cross being called Bucky off the list. 

If he was being totally honest, a little part of him flared to life at the thought of hearing it come out of Darcy’s lips. 

Anything was better than Jim-Bob, for fuck’s sake.

He shook his head and threw open the door to stroll casually out of the dressing room. He preened in front of the mirror, flashing a cocky smile as Bruce nodded and smiled wide. “I thought you said no suit jackets?” Steve said morosely to the attendant observing.

His voice was impassive as he responded, “That was for you, sir. _He_ wears it with no problem.” 

He couldn’t help the burst of laughter as he turned and took in his reflection while Steve grumbled at the attendant. He was wearing an all black fitted suit, with a black vest and black dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck and top, the only pop of color a little white pocket square in the left breast pocket. And judging from the envious looks not a few shoppers were throwing his way, he looked damn good in it. 

“Darcy’s gonna love it,” Bruce said with a smile.

“Darcy loves everything he does,” Steve said with fake irritation, a wide smile on his face. 

“Still think you’re gonna win and they’ll admit clothes in the forties were better than clothes now?” Bruce called to him as he went back in the room to change.

Steve snorted with confidence. “Absolutely! It’s not even a question.” 

“We’ll see, bu-buddy,” James said lazily as he sauntered back into the dressing room, ignoring Steve’s stunned flush and Bruce’s chuckle. “We’ll see.”

~*~

“Tell me about the sisterhood,” Natasha said casually as she started to apply her lipstick. They were getting ready together in Darcy’s bathroom, and she very nearly poked herself with the damn mascara wand as she shot a started glance over to Natasha.

Of _course_. It wasn’t like a single thing would ever slip by Natasha Romanoff.

“Well, I’m sure I’ve already made it abundantly clear that you are the living, breathing embodiment of my inner ninja warrior,” Darcy said casually, fluffing at her hair. 

Natasha chuckled and searched through her makeup bag, “I’m honored, truly.”

“Right, well, I noticed that the Tower seems to be a bit of a boys club, so I thought it would be fun if the ladies got together every now and then, you know, for girls nights and stuff, female power, all that jazz.”

“All that jazz,” Natasha echoed mildly, adding another swipe of black eyeliner. 

God damn, she was hard to read. 

Impossible.

Darcy didn’t have a fucking clue if she thought she was an idiot or if she was actually excited or if-

“Who would be invited?”

Darcy jumped and very nearly mussed her lipstick. “Well, you, obviously, and me. And I was thinking Sam, because that dude is the fucking bees knees. Jane, maybe, if she ever returns from cavorting with Big Thunder.”

“What’s the deal with her, anyway?” 

Darcy grimaced and shrugged while she poked a bit at her salad. “I dunno… I mean, we used to be real close and all, the boss lady and me. And I love her like the sister I never had. But she kind of,” Darcy floundered and waved her hand in front of her face. “She kind of gets wrapped up with Big Thunder and sort of… _forgets_ anyone else exists?”

It was lame. So totally lame. She knew they were soulmates and needed their time and all that. And she wasn’t jealous, honest to god she wasn’t.

But it sort of seemed like Jane only needed Darcy when she didn’t have Thor.

For fucks sake, she hadn’t even texted Darcy back when she announced she was bonded to a god damned super soldier.

“Maybe we could have a girls night, without Sam for this time, one day this week when Jane and Thor are due back?” Natasha suggested with an understanding smile, squeezing Darcy’s shoulder as she cocked her hip on the counter and picked a crouton out of her salad.

Darcy shrugged, “Maybe. I’ll text her and see what she says.”

Male laughter floated into the bathroom and Natasha smirked through the mirror as Darcy fluffed her curls one last time. “Sounds like our escorts have arrived, in their usual raucous fashion,” she said dryly, delicate eyebrows raised.

“Haven’t you gals been getting ready all day? Let’s get a move on!” Cappy called towards the presently closed bathroom door.

“You want to go first, or should we go together?” 

Darcy smiled and grabbed Natasha’s hand. “Together. That way we don’t miss a moment of their reactions.”

Natasha smirked and pushed the door open wide. Arm in arm, they strolled out with matching smirks and hip swaying struts. 

Darcy was not ashamed to admit she’d had Natasha teach her how to saunter all the way back to the Tower that afternoon. It was going to be totally fucking worth it when she had to roll Sharky’s jaw back up from the floor.

Darcy was feeling one thousand percent confident that he would be drooling and collapsing at her cool, collected little feet.

Until they stepped through the doorway.

At which point _she_ was the one with the embarrassing reaction.

Darcy’s heart starting racing and she swallowed thickly at the sight of him lounging casually against the back of an armchair in his fitted black suit, arms bulging where they were crossed over his chest, his hair slicked back in another low bun and a day’s worth of stubble growing in on his cheeks. She felt herself get a little decidedly wet at how good he looked, and judging from the smirk on his face and glint in his eye he could feel her arousal, too. 

Never one to give up the upper hand, she bit her lip and slowly walked up to him, hips swaying and chest pushed out as she walked right up between his legs to rest her palm on his chest. She didn’t miss the way his eyes hungrily swept over her curves, or the way he was fixated on her hips and her chest. “My face is up here, Sarg,” she teased, using the tip of her finger to gently push his chin up until their faces were parallel. 

The way his pupils widened and his voice dropped had Darcy practically panting as he leaned over to press a kiss to her cheek, his scruff scratching softly against the side of her face. “You look beautiful, doll,” he rumbled appreciatively into her ear, before pulling back to flash her a cocky smile. “If I’m not mistaken, it feels like you think I look good, too.” 

That fucker.

She didn’t miss the way he’d emphasized the word feel, and she felt her cheeks tint pink as she rolled her eyes and tossed her hair over her shoulder, turning to follow the others as they made their way to the elevator. 

She threw some extra sway into her hips, and she could practically feel his gaze burn over her back and waist while they made their way down the all. “Good enough to eat,” she threw over her shoulder, turning slightly to wink at him and grin as a sly smile spread across his face.

He followed her onto the elevator, and she felt his big hands rest lightly on her waist, one metal, one flesh, as he leaned down and brushed his lips against her ear. “That’s supposed to by my line, doll,” he whispered low into her ear, chuckling when he felt her body shiver and saw the flush rising on her chest and her neck, climbing to grace her cheeks.

He _tsked_ at her as the doors slid open and they walked out to the limo Steve had called for the night. “You’re a naughty girl, Darcy doll,” he teased, sliding in beside her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her close to his side. 

When the car stopped a few streets over and they all climbed out, she turned to smile cockily at him over her shoulder. “You have no idea, Sergeant Barnes,” she purred at him with a wink.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” He was smirking as he wrapped an arm around her waist, leaning down to inhale the scent of her hair. 

That _fucker_. 

Little did he know she’d planned this very moment as soon as the idea popped into her head at the salon earlier.

Darcy sighed softly before tilting her head up and back to whisper in his ear. “Well, for one… I’m not wearing any underwear.” 

Waves of his arousal flooded her body, and the heat in his eyes as his growl ripped through his chest and vibrated into her back made her just about die on the spot.

Take that, Sergeant Sex Barnes.

~*~

The look on Steve’s face had tears rolling down Darcy’s when they’d finally gotten their drinks and made their way to the balcony reserved for the group. His jaw was nearly to the floor, and the crimson blush spreading over his cute little boy scout cheeks had even Bruce snickering while ‘horrified Cappy’ watched the bodies twist and sway and convalesce together on the dance floor below. 

Sharky’s initial reaction wasn’t much different, though he hid it better than Steve. She felt his increasing anxiety and shock rolling into her, and when she looked over to where he lounged next to her against the railing, she couldn’t help but giggle at how carefully he was trying to hold his face together. “Something wrong?” She asked innocently, batting her eyelashes as she fought back a smirk.

“They’re basically have sex!” Cappy just about yelped, sending Darcy and Natasha into another fit of giggles. 

“Oh my god,” Bruce stuttered, pointing as he started to laugh loudly. Following his hand and nod of head, Darcy turned to see Sam was already there and had leapt right into the middle of it. He was not only grinding with one girl in front of him, but he had one behind him as well. 

“That takes quite the coordination,” Sharky mused with a smirk next to her, and Darcy couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him in response.

“Think you’ll be able to keep up tonight, Sergeant Barnes?” She asked with a challenge, eyes flashing up at him as she casually leaned on the rail to push her hips towards him and angle her chest. 

He growled as his metal arm snaked out to wrap around her and pull her with him towards the stairs. His face dipped down to hers as he placed a slow kiss on the side of her neck, just below her ear. “Do you think _you_ will, doll?” He challenged back, voice dropping to curl her toes in her heels. 

With a sly smile, Darcy bit her lip and turned slightly to take hold of his tie, pulling him close behind her down the stairs and onto the dance floor. The bass thumped across the floor while the lights started to flash different colors, and she shot a look over her shoulder as she pulled him and turned into his arms. 

“I’m fine, doll,” he said wryly, eyes scanning as he watched the different dancers around him. “You would know that if you paid attention to my feelings,” he said with mock hurt and a teasing wink. 

“That’s the problem, big guy,” she chuckled, before turning in his arms and pressing her back up to his chest, starting to feel the music roll into her. “I don’t think you’re _feeling_ enough.” With that, she took hold of both of his hands and placed them on each hip as she started to sway to the beat of the music. Arching her back, Darcy rolled her hips to grind her butt into his crotch lightly while she slid her hands up his arms to reach behind her and twist one around his neck, holding him close as she moved against him. 

The thump of the club music had her slowly moving against him in a teasing rhythm that pressed and pulled in all the right ways, and she felt his arousal in both a literal and emotional sense as his body tightened behind her while waves rolled through her. With a smirk she thought that maybe she finally had a bit of the upper hand. 

Until he started to grind back against her.

At which point Darcy knew she never really had control at all. 

Tingles shot over her skin, climbing up and down her arms and racing down her legs, and Darcy hoped beyond hope that maybe he never did, either.

His hands were roaming up and down her hips to the front of her thighs, while his hips rolled back to press and slide with hers in time with the music. Her head fell back on his shoulder while his came down to meet it, the scruff of his beard scratching deliciously against the smooth skin of her cheek and neck as they moved, bodies like one with the music, like one with each other. 

She felt like her skin was on fucking _fire_ as she moved against him, his body wrapped around hers making her heart pound and her head fly right up to the clouds. She was starting to pant, starting to lose any ounce of self-control she had left, and by the amount of want and need his body was sending in to hers, she could tell he was, too. 

Darcy felt the sharpness of his teeth as he lightly bit the tender skin where her shoulder met her neck, and the shudder that rolled through her while the wetness dampened the top of her thighs made her just about come in the middle of the dance floor.

He was panting as his lips pressed in to whisper, his husky voice rasping in her ear. “How about now, Darcy doll?” He growled as he continued to move against her, and it took her more than a few beats for her to process what he’d said.

“What?” She asked breathlessly, butterflies flying right out of her chest as her head spun from how much she desperately wanted the man behind her, and how much she could feel he wanted her as well.

“Am I feeling enough now, doll?” The low chuckle accompanying his words as she shivered was just about her undoing, and she couldn’t help the whine that came out of the back of her throat in response.

God damn Sergeant Sex Barnes. He was going to be the orgasmic, blissful death of her.

She felt him shudder against her, and his voice was strained as he whispered once again while his hands traced over her and his hips pressed into her. “That’s a good start, Darcy doll,” he rumbled into her ear, “but you’re going to be screaming by the time I’m done.” She bit her lip tightly and just barely managed not to come right fucking there as he growled and ground harder into her.

The song transitioned and people started to move around them in a rush, snapping her out of some of the lustful haze he’d wrapped around her. As she turned to look at the commotion she felt a hard hand clamp down on her arm, yanking her away from James, who had turned when Steve called his name. She felt a knife press up tight against her throat while she struggled against the arms wrapping tight around her, but the music was loud and she couldn’t hear a fucking thing and all of a sudden the cool metal of the knife was pricking her flesh. 

“Very good,” a voice whispered thick with a Russian accent behind her, sending shivers of fear down her spine as he tugged her through the throng, away from the group and further into the fray. 

Oh, no.

Mother fucking, hell to the goddamned _no_.

This shit was not about to go down on her watch. No.

Absolutely _not_.

There was chaos everywhere, people screaming as they pushed and pulled against each other like a tidal wave in a panic. She could just make out glimpses as Sharky started to spin in a circle, eyes scanning for her while the man at her back pulled her into the crowd. She felt his fear rising, his eyes snapping to and fro, and she fought her own panic as she tried to send calming thoughts to him through their bond.

I’m alright, she channeled, I’m okay. 

Who the fuck knew if that was how it worked, but still. A girl had to try.

His fear was drowning her out though, and she started to panic as she felt him struggling to breathe while the man pulled her out an emergency exit and into the alley that ran behind the club. 

“Well, well, well.” The voice was cold and snake-like, and Darcy felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach as she recognized the man to whom it belonged. 

The Winter Soldier’s handler. 

She was captured once again by Hydra.

Fuckity fuck fuck _fuck_.

“I see you’ve kept a careful eye on our asset,” his voice grated on her ears, high-pitched and nasally as it pierced through the night. “You’ve taken such good care of him, too. We’ll be taking him back now.”

Nope.

That was a big fat fucking nope of an idea right there.

She heard yelling down the alley behind her, and the cold smile he sent her shot another wave of fear straight into her heart. “We’ll be killing all of them, before we kill you, too.”

The man holding her spun her around so she was facing down the street, and she saw Steve, Natasha and Sharky sprinting towards her as their eyes flicked over the Hydra agents circling her, twenty in all. 

It was still Sharky, and not the Soldier. That was probably a good thing, right?

“Don’t worry,” the asshole Hydra fucker said softly behind her. “We’ll leave you alive for now. So you can watch.”

Her friends and heroes crashed into the first few agents, fighting in close hand to hand combat to get to her while more swarmed out from the fire escapes and jumped down to surround them. Three black SUV’s pulled up to block their escape out the back, and suddenly there were nearly fifty Hydra agents in the close alley, swarming around her friends.

Good fucking god. How had this many agents slipped in undetected barely five blocks from Avengers fucking Tower.

She struggled in the bastard’s hold as she watched Natasha take a hard kick to the jaw and go flying into the brick behind her. Darcy wondered in a panic where Sam and Bruce were and why they weren’t helping as she continued to strain against the man holding her, twisting and bucking to no avail. 

Tears pricked her eyes when she saw Natasha drop cold, and Darcy couldn’t even tell if her crumpled body was still breathing. The fear was swallowing her chest, and it pierced her heart when she saw even Steve fall, swarmed and overwhelmed by nearly ten agents as they fought to restrain him. 

Her eyes flew to James’, and she saw the fear and anguish written all over his face as he swung his metal fist and twisted and flipped, trying desperately to fight his way to her. 

His eyes raised to hers as the agents overwhelmed him, and his mouth turned into a firm line when he nodded his head to her. 

No. That was a big fat fucking nope. 

They hadn’t practiced it yet. 

It was barely even an idea and who the fuck knew if it even worked?

Hell, he hadn’t even wanted to as of _six hours ago_ , when he adamantly and somewhat rudely _refused to even fucking consider it_.

Nope-ity nope nope _nope_.

She shook her head, tears rolling down her face as her heart quenched while he struggled and wrestled against the agents forcing him down.

His eyes flashed insistently as the bodies started to overwhelm him.

Darcy shook her head, fighting against her capture as her eyes bored into his, watching him succumb as they brought him down to kneel.

“Do it,” he shouted across the alley, eyes blazing with fire and fear.

She closed her eyes tight, breathing deep, before she felt her gaze snap to an unmoving Natasha and over to a battered Steve.

Her body snapped up firmly, tears drying instantly as she forced her eyes open and trapped his gaze. With every ounce of strength she had left, she steadied her voice to call through the night.

“Come to me, Winter Soldier.” Her voice was hard, firm, and she heard the nasally man behind her shoulder suck in a breath in confusion.

She called again, louder this time, eyes burning into his. “Come to me, Winter Soldier.”

With a shudder and a roar, he did.

~*~

Cold eyes snapped up to hers as his metal arm whirred to life, plates sliding and flexing as a hand snapped out to fist in the hair of the attacker in front of him before launching him into the pavement with a sickening crunch. 

She swallowed hard before nodding firmly. 

She knew what she needed to do.

“Kill them,” she said quietly, ignoring the chill rolling through her as his body responded instantly to her words. “Kill them all, except for him.” She jerked her head behind her towards the nasally handler.

Without a word, he burst forth as bodies flew to smack against the brick walls, heads twisting, backs breaking, limbs popping as he fought all who stood between them. A flicker of movement to his right caught his eyes, and with a snarl he sprinted towards the few hovering over Steve as he started to rise. A river of blood rolled down the street while the bodies piled up at his feet, and she watched with cold detachment, his reserve sweeping through her body to settle her nerves, while he rained down death and destruction.

As his fist closed around Steve’s throat and he thrust him hard against the brick wall of the club, Darcy shook her head and called softly. “Not him, Soldier. Never, never him.”

He snarled, releasing him instantaneously before turning to throw a knife into the forehead of the agent who had been trying to pull her back out of the alley and towards a car. 

Steve could only watch, wide eyed, as the one man blood bath continued.

A roar sounded as a green giant thundered around the corner, crushing the car the nasally handler was mere feet from retreating to with his foot as he raced towards Natasha’s crumpled body on the pavement. 

Cold eyes flickered to hers once more as the Soldier turned and halted his progress towards her. She shook her head, eyes steady as they gazed into his. “Not them, either, Soldier. _Never_ them.”

A brief nod, and then he was hurtling down the alley to kill all who tried to retreat, until he spun back toward them and was face to face with his Hydra handler.

“My, my, how impressive,” the handler noted, eyes flickering with the first bit of fear. 

Darcy watched out of the corner of her eye as Steve came to stand on her left, while the Hulk cradled Natasha in his strong green arms and stood to her right. 

“I command you to kill them now, Soldier,” the agent behind her said coldly, nodding towards the foursome a few paces away from him. 

A metal fist shot out to close tightly around his thin throat, choking off his air, before the Winter Soldier turned to drag his body behind him towards Darcy, dropping him before fisting his metal hand in his hair to force him to kneel while his eyes met hers. Sam flew into the alley behind her, wings flashing as he hovered above them. “We need him alive, Darcy, we need to interrogate him.”

The Soldier’s eyes bored into hers, and she felt a stirring within as something flickered behind his cold eyes. Meeting his gaze, she tried to parse through the sliver of feeling. “You’re angry?”

A nearly imperceptible nod.

_Why?_ What would he be mad about?

A grunt, while a heavy metal fist shook the hair of the body cowering below it. 

Darcy tilted her head in thought. 

Oh.

_Oh._

Well, that was simple, really. Vengeance was certainly the least they could do for him. “After we are done with him, James is the one who kills him,” she said firmly to Sam, not taking her eyes from the Soldier in front of her. 

His eyes flared with rage, and she quickly corrected herself while the fist nearly ripped out a handful of the handler’s hair. “ _Excuse_ me. After we are done with him, the _Winter Soldier_ will be the one who kills him.”

A firm jerk of the chin as he nodded. 

Steve sighed heavily but Sam waved him off as he gracefully stepped down to his feet. “Okay,” he agreed, watching him carefully. “You can kill him. But only when she tells you to.”

The Soldier nodded once before turning his gaze to Sam. “Come on, kiddos,” Sam said quietly. “Let’s go home.”

Interesting that he already knew he could trust Sam. Darcy wondered if maybe those two had already been attempting something like this summoning thing already, and made a note to ask Sam-bam about it later.

The Winter Soldier’s gazed snapped back to hers as Steve clasped a hand on her shoulder to pull her down the alley, before he stepped back with a smirk as he heard the low growl. “Easy there, we all know she’s yours, big guy.”

A grunt on the side with a roar had Steve’s eyes widening as he looked towards the Hulk who was lumbering down the pavement, leaving craters in his wake. “Excuse me,” he mocked. “ _Other_ big guy,” he said with amusement. 

The fragile egos in this alley were enough of a reason for her and Natasha to have girls’ nights to last a _lifetime_.

Cappy turned back to the Soldier and nodded his head towards Darcy. “She’s been through a lot, don’t you think? She’s limping, too. I thought I’d just help her home since you’ve got your hands full, if you don’t mind?” 

Giant shoulders shifted as muscles flexed while he tilted his head, cold eyes sweeping down to her feet before coming back up to her face. With a snarl, he threw the Hydra handler forward to collapse at Steve’s feet before striding purposefully up to Darcy and sweeping her up into his arms. 

Not that she was complaining, of course. She was more than happy to be carried, even if he was still in prickly Soldier mode.

Steve snorted, rolling his eyes while Darcy smiled softly and met his gaze over the Winter Soldier’s shoulder. “Alright, then. You rescue the girl, I’ll drag the bad guy home. Seems fitting.” 

Darcy lay her head on his shoulder as he stalked down the alley and back towards _Avengers_ Tower, grim determination setting firm lines on his face while his fury rolled through her body. They entered the tower and took the elevator up towards their room, passing through the common room where Bruce was passed out naked on the couch with a blanket thrown over him while Natasha stroked his hair away from his face. 

“You still haven’t un-summoned him yet?” She asked with a smirk as he carried her directly past them and down the hall. 

Darcy smiled, calling over her shoulder as he opened the door to their suite. “He’s angry with me about something, so I thought we’d get it all squared away first.” 

He marched through their living room leaving bloody footprints she just knew _she_ was going to have to mop up later, and plopped her down gently on the vanity counter before coming down to kneel at her feet while he delicately removed each of her heels. She winced as the right one slid off, and he cradled her foot in his cool metal hand while he delicately probed the bones with his right. 

“I’m alright, Soldier,” she said softly, warm eyes looking down with amusement at the hands which mere minutes ago where dealing death and destruction. 

He grunted before returning to stand and turning to start the water to fill the Jacuzzi tub. “Come here, Soldier, please,” she asked him quietly. She felt something unsettled sweep through him at being given a choice, rather than a command. 

He turned and stalked slowly towards her, eyes glinting every bit like the predator he was before he came to rest against her knees. “Why are you angry with me?” She whispered as she reached up to gently touch his rough cheek with her fingertips.

His eyes closed at the contact, and she saw the muscles in his face twitch as she felt an emotion go through her. 

Fear. 

“You were afraid for me?” She asked surprised, raising her eyebrows as cold eyes snapped back open to plead into hers. “I… Um…” She stumbled, heart fluttering in her chest at the depth of emotion she could see in his eyes. 

“I need you,” his tone was cold and automatic as the Winter Soldier’s was, but he couldn’t quite hide the need shining in his steely eyes. 

It was unsettling.

It was _unnerving_.

It just about made her cry.

She blinked back the tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks as she swallowed and nodded, giving him a watery smile. “I need you too, Soldier,” she whispered, tenderly cupping his cheek as she brought a second hand up to join the first. “Both of you,” she emphasized firmly. 

His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned his cheek into the palm of her hand before he bent his head down to softly press his lips to hers. A jolt shot through her, and when she opened her eyes she saw warm ones staring back. A calloused finger came up to graze her cheek and catch the tears that she hadn’t realized had started to fall.

“Hey, doll,” he whispered gravelly, leaning his head down to press his forehead against hers. 

“Hey, yourself,” she whispered back, heart pounding as his lips slowly peppered butterfly kisses across her nose, cheeks, eyelids, and finally her lips. 

“James, I-“

“Don’t apologize,” he cut her off firmly, eyes stern as they bored into hers, before his face broke into a smile. “It worked… Didn’t it?”

She smiled shyly back, teeth grazing her lower lip. “Yeah,” she nodded, “it did.”

A frown pulled his features down as he looked at her with reproach. “You need to train more, doll. You put yourself in danger.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes with a smile. “Yes, Sarg.”

He looked exhausted as he shook his head with a smirk. “Not just me saying it, doll,” he teased, and her heart fluttered at the heat in his eyes as they gazed into hers.

“Okay, okay,” she laughed, holding her palms up in surrender. “But tomorrow,” she said, nodding her head towards the nearly-filled tub with a coy smile. “Tonight I’ve got plans.” 

He growled as he leaned in close, large chest pressing close to hers as he pushed her legs wide with his hips to stand before her. “Is that so, doll?” He growled into her ear as she walked her fingertips down his chest to unbutton his coat. As he turned his head to catch her bottom lip between his teeth, a loud pounding on the door had him jumping back from her while she shifted in alarm, spilling the makeup that had been left on the counter onto the floor. “Hellooo, James home?” Steve called slyly against the door before knocking again. “We require your assistance with your new friend, super soldier.”

With a heavy sigh, he growled at the door and called, “Be there in a minute.” He gave her a rueful smile as he stepped up to claim her lips in a hungry kiss that left her panting when he pulled back, eyes bright. “I’ll see you in the morning?” 

Darcy smiled wide, butterflies racing through her chest as she tapped his nose with her finger. “Can’t wait.” 

With a smirk and a pointed glance towards the tub that was about to overflow, he walked out of the bathroom, leaving her with a dreamy smile as she undressed and slipped into the warm water to wash away the filth from the night. She thought she was in the clear until his head popped back in through the doorway, flashing in just long enough to shoot her a wink, “I know, doll. I can tell.”

Fucking Sergeant Sex Barnes.

Fucking Hydra.

Fucking… 

Well, just _fuck_.


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning, Darcy was drenched with sweat as she sparred with Natasha on the training mat. Over Natasha’s shoulder she saw Sergeant Please-Just-Fuck-Me-Now stride into the room, earbuds hanging over his shoulder as he walked confidently towards the weight machines. 

Sweet, sweet Frigga, he looked delicious, with his flexing muscles and his disheveled hair pulled back in a loose knot on his neck. The giant tank he was wearing was doing things to her, what with the tiny flashes of more abdominal muscles than anyone ever had a right to possess peaking out as he turned and set up his lift equipment.

_Crack._

Natasha’s fist connected with her jaw, so fucking hard she fell she was flat on her face and didn’t even bother trying to push up from the floor. 

Um, _ow._

Like, _super ow._

As in _what in the actual fuck her ears were ringing ow._

“Wahhhh,” Darcy moaned into the training mat, grunting as she tried to shake the stars out of her eyes. 

She couldn’t manage real words. The _Black Widow_ had just popped her into the next goddamned century.

After a few more _wahhhs_ directed into the floor, she pushed back onto her hands and knees and glared up at Natasha. 

Who just shrugged unapologetically at her, her eyes fierce as they glared down. “You can’t afford any distractions, Darcy, and the biggest one of all will be there fighting, too. Every single time. You _have_ to learn how to put it away, or let it go. You’re a liability to all of us if you don’t.”

Well, she was totally right, of course. The guilt just about swallowed her whole when she thought about something happening to Natasha or Steve or Sergeant Sexy just because she was too distracted to keep her head in the fight.

Not that she had any real intention of _actively_ fighting, mind you, but after the previous catastrophe it was probably better to be safe than sorry. She would at the very least be on site, and a girl had to be prepared.

But hello. _Ow._

Darcy’s head spun and her muscles protested loudly as she stood and dropped into her fighting stance. She grimaced as she rubbed her thumb and shifted her jaw. “How, exactly, am I supposed to block out six-foot-two, two-hundred plus pounds of muscled distraction?” She complained, swaying to and fro as Natasha started to circle her for another round. 

The sly smile Natasha shot her should have warned her. “Fuck him” she said simply, eyes twinkling as she spun and her leg shot out to land a kick to her ribs while Darcy’s arms dropped from shock, body frozen.

She meant literally, of course.

And that was a serious cheap shot.

Darcy was pretty sure she was still only going like, forty-percent effort tops, but still. 

_Rude_.

Darcy crumpled back onto the floor, holding her ribs and wheezing as she forced the air back into her lungs. “Have you lost your mind?” She rasped out, buckled over not yet ready to stand.

“Trust me, Darcy. You need to work out some of the tension before it bites us all in the ass.”

“What tension?” A familiar voice drawled behind her. 

Of _course_. Sergeant Sex Barnes, in all his tension-inducing, distracting glory. Pushing herself up to stand, Darcy saw the source of said tension tilt his head with a firm frown on his face as he watched her rise. 

“None of your business,” she wheezed with a scowl, turning back to try and sink back into her stance in front of Natasha.

“When I almost drop 500 lbs because I see my girl get dropped twice in as many minutes, it becomes my business, cupcake,” he said with a frown, lifting an eyebrow as she stuck her tongue out at him. 

Fucking Sergeant Sex Barnes.

Fucking Natasha and her sneak attack training methods.

Speaking of, evil Natasha was now circling her again. Darcy tried to mirror her stance, and barely had her hands up before Natasha darted in with another attack. Darcy fended her off better this time, twisting and deflecting her blows, but Natasha was faster, because _hello she was sparring with the Black Widow here_ , and before long another punch landed on her already tender ribs, knocking the wind out of her as she fell back to splay out on her back on the mat. 

It was a cheap shot, _again_. 

Not like Darcy would ever call her on it, of course. Natasha would just say _do you think the bad guys won’t take advantage of your weaknesses_ and then kick her again just to prove a damn point.

As much as she loved her, Darcy hated her a little bit sometimes, too.

Darcy weakly held a fist up as she tapped with her other hand on the mat. “I surrender,” she groaned.

“Surrender something else, and maybe this will be the last time,” Natasha called over her shoulder with a smirk as she sauntered out of the training room towards the showers. 

With a groan, Darcy continued to rest on the mat and stare up at the ceiling. She briefly considered making sweat-angels until she realized that might be a tiny bit weird. 

Perhaps another time? It’s not like she wasn’t bound to end up defeated on the floor again after sparring with the _Black Widow_.

“Come on, doll,” a soft voice said above her before Sergeant Distraction-To-End-All-Distractions came down to scoop her up. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” His voice was gentle and tender as he carried her towards the door.

Darcy didn’t miss the worried look he shot towards the observation window where Bruce and Sam were chatting as the elevator door slid shut. 

~*~

“She needs a boost or something. Isn’t there anything you can do?” He was sitting with Sam and Bruce in the lab, spinning on a stool while they combed through Bruce’s research.

“I mean, in theory I may be able to develop some sort of enhancement serum, but honestly we don’t have enough time, and it would be risky” Bruce mumbled as he typed furiously into the keyboard.

“You guys ever think you’re lookin’ at this all wrong?” 

His arm whirred to life and he felt his entire body shudder when a short guy in black cargo pants dropped down from the open vent in the ceiling. The cold swept over him, his mind starting to quiet as his breathing slowed, when Sam got right in his face and looked him straight in the eyes.

“He is not a threat.” Sam said slow, but firm. “You hear me, man? He is a fucking _moron_ , but he is _not_ a threat. Do you hear me? You are James Buchanan Barnes, and this asshat, to borrow a word from your lady, is no threat to you. You good?” 

He felt like he was half in, half out, as his vision tunneled in and out while every single muscle contracted tight around his bones. He blinked, and tried to breathe, while Sam repeated himself over and over, before he was finally able to let out the turmoil with an audible hiss of relief.

He nodded, not yet trusting himself to speak as he clenched his jaw.

He shook his head and blinked hard, breathing heavy before he looked over to glare at the _asshat_ , Vent-guy.

He had both hands raised in surrender and was pale as a fucking ghost. 

A little glance to his side quickly revealed why, as Bruce was looking decidedly _green_. “Tasha is on her way, man.” Sam said as he thumbed on his phone, eyes shifting watchfully between him and Bruce. “What do you say we all practice our breathing exercises, yeah?” Sam said calmly, folding down to sit criss-cross on the floor.

He didn’t hesitate to join him, Bruce visibly shaking as he followed. 

Vent-guy closed off the circle, practically vibrating with anxious energy as he joined them.

He clutched his fist and felt the plates in his arm shift and settle as they calibrated. How he wanted to get a fucking _crack_ in on Vent-guy.

“Inhale, and shut your eyes. Focus on your breathing, each breath in deeper, each exhale longer…”

His nerves frayed, he shut his eyes and let Sam’s voice wash over him as he focused.

~*~

Darcy wasn’t sure what she expected when she wandered down to the labs in search of Tony, because she had yet to receive the fucking amazing taser she’d been promised, but it certainly wasn’t a kumbaya circle of super heroes (plus some rando, who the fuck was that?) all practicing meditation.

She snapped a quick pic as proof before sliding silently out of the room. It was so adorable she wanted to cherish it forever. She just might frame it and put it in her bedroom. 

Sam sat like some sort of sensei, palms open on his knees, guiding them through breathing exercises with soft prompts and calm reassurances. Bruce had his head down to his chest, his hands apparently palm down for grounding, according to Sam’s narration. Rando guy she hadn’t seen before kept peaking out of his squeezed eyes to shoot anxious glances to his left, at Barnes, and his right, at Bruce.

And Barnes?

Sweet, sweet Sergeant Barnesicle.

He had his chest pushed forward, for openness Sam said, while his hands were palm down for grounding like Bruce’s.

Darcy felt her eyes well as she smiled in through the glass window, watching the meditation session continue. All the little ducklings, working through their feelings together in the pond.

It made her so happy she wanted to _burst_. 

Without a second thought, Darcy marched back to the elevator, instructing Jarvis to set up a coffee date with Sam for that very afternoon.

If anyone had earned a donut, it was Sam-bam-thank-you-ma’am. 

~*~

He heard her leave, but was too relaxed to care about whether he should feel embarrassed. He’d known it the second she entered the lab. For fucks sake, he could literally smell the apple vanilla lotion she loved so much wafting off of her, but he _liked_ the meditation, damnit, and there was nothing wrong with that.

He shouldn’t be embarrassed. Sam had made it clear that he should feel confident and secure practicing his breathing exercises the second he felt his control start to slip.

Besides, it wasn’t like Darcy doll would ever judge him for it. Hell, she probably already had a playlist all cued up with Jarvis for him.

Also, Vent-guy was still freaking the fuck out, and he needed to seriously chill.

A few more minutes of breathing and Sam brought the session to a close. “Now, everybody feeling better?”

He _did_ feel better, actually. 

A _lot_ better. 

He needed to add this to his morning routine.

He shot a nervous glance at Bruce, and was pleased to see he mirrored the same calm, shy feelings that he was experiencing. Vent-guy was still shifty, but was at least a little _less_ shifty, so maybe that was enough progress for his first session.

“Good,” Sam said proudly, sitting back to rest to rest his palms behind him. “Now, how about we make formal introductions? You and I,” he shot a pointed glance at Vent-guy, “will have a nice long chat after we’re done here.”

He snickered. Vent-guy was fucked if Darcy ever got a whiff of _why_ they were all practicing their meditation together.

“Name’s Clint, kids call me Hawkeye or Hawk for short,” Clint thrust his hand in his direction, and he grasped it with a firm shake.

“Uh, I’m, uh-” 

Well, _fuck_.

“No worries man, I know who you are.” Clint cut in with a smile.

He heard Sam elaborating, but couldn’t quite keep present because it occurred to him that this was the first time in fucking _decades_ that he’d actually had to introduce himself and he didn’t have a god damned clue what to say.

_Hi, I’m the Winter Soldier_ was never a sentence he had the desire to utter proudly.

Clint seemed to sense his awkwardness, and jumped into the reason he was there in the first place. “Like I was saying, I think you fellas are going about this all wrong,” he said abruptly.

He felt himself staring blankly while Bruce nodded, prompting him along. “Well, you have any better ideas?”

Clint shrugged and picked at the toe of his boot. “I’ve been watching the girl spar with Tasha-“

“Darcy,” he cut in with a growl, before he wondered why the fuck that bothered him so much.

“Darcy,” Clint confirmed with a nervous glance, “right, I’ve been watching _Darcy_ and I think a big part of the problem is she’s trying too hard to _keep up_ , when you should just play to her strengths to begin with.”

“Which would be…?”

Bruce clearly thought Vent-guy was a toddler. It made him irrationally gleeful.

Clint shrugged. “Just sayin, maybe we don’t pump her full of serum until we exhaust all her combat options, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he heard himself echoing, because that made a lot of goddamn sense. 

“I’m assuming you have some _actual theories_ on _practical techniques_ we could teach Darcy,” Sam said dryly.

Oh, right. Those would probably be good.

Where the fuck was his mind right now? He shook his head to clear it a bit.

Clint’s smile actually _was_ a little hawkish as he shrugged and strolled to the door. “Follow me,” he called over his shoulder.

He shared a bemused glance with Sam and Bruce before he shrugged and followed Clint back towards the gym.

Why the fuck not?

~*~

Darcy was on her way back in from an afternoon coffee run and counseling sesh with Samuel when the day apparently just all went to shit. 

She was still sore from the ass-kicking earlier that morning; she was grumpy because the coffee shop they went to didn’t have any chocolate chip muffins; and now, she was pissed beyond all _fuck_ that she continued to get an error message from Jarvis when the elevator abruptly came to a halt, far too many floors away from her own. 

Apparently, some jackass enacted an emergency protocols drill and locked down the entire top half of the fucking _Tower_.

She thought at first it was Tony, because there hadn’t been a single explosion all week, and the lab was likely due. In fact, she was two seconds from dialing his number until she remembered he was in Washington with Pepper (which was why she never found him earlier), and _this time_ was innocent.

Emphasis on the _this time_. 

She thumbed through her phone, trying to decide who to call next when all of a sudden the goddamned _ceiling opened up_ and Natasha swung in, not a single hair out of place.

Darcy could only gape. That woman was a force unto herself. 

“So, it appears your man has decided to enact emergency protocols and is refusing to engage with Jarvis,” Natasha said calmly.

Well, fuck.

That was not good.

That was very very _very_ not good.

“I was thinking we should smuggle you in since he also won’t open the door, and based on my recon half your living room is pushed up against it as a barricade, anyways?”

Darcy snapped her jaw shut and glared suspiciously up at the hole in the ceiling. “I’m going through the vents again, aren’t I?” She grumbled, already shrugging out of her jacket.

Natasha grinned and gestured with her hand. “Come on, I’ll give you a boost.”

~*~

Natasha pointed to the opening she just crawled past in the duct. “This is your stop,” she said quietly.

She also gave Darcy a thumbs-up and a _smile_.

Rather than feeling buoyed, Darcy felt fucking overwhelmed. If the _Black Widow_ felt she needed to smile for encouragement, it was going to be bad.

Darcy swallowed, nodded, and shot Natasha the finger guns. 

She was a ninja warrior goddess, right? She could totally do this.

You know what? No.

She was Darcy goddamned Lewis. She was bound to the _Winter Soldier_ for scenarios just like this one. She _had_ to do this.

One more nod for courage and she dropped down through the opening into her rearranged living room.

Every piece of furniture was pushed up against the door, except for two chairs placed strategically by the window.

Holy fucking shitballs. 

He’d built a blanket fort.

Every soft, fluffy blanket they owned was crafted into the most ornate blanket fort she’d ever _seen_. It would be fun, if she didn’t see the rifle poking out of said fort and through the cracked window.

_That_ was decidedly _less fun_.

She glanced around before swallowing thickly. Time to approach the fort.

With a short detour through the kitchen to arm herself with pixie sticks, Darcy finally, _slowly_ , approached the figure decked out in tactical gear staring down the barrel of the sniper rifle.

What was it with Sergeant Sexy and the sniper rifle?

She took two steps closer when it hit her that he was a fucking _sniper_ so _obviously that was what was with the fucking sniper rifle_.

She was losing her mind. She took another deep breath for courage. What should she do, now? Should she say something? Sit down? Announce her presence? Make loud noises?

Did he even know she was here?

“Clocked one at ten o’clock and another fifty meters up the street,” he stated, scaring the _bejeezus_ out of her. He didn’t look up from the scope but shifted a little to his left, apparently making room in the fort.

Well, alrighty then.

“Want a pixie stick?” She offered as she plopped down beside him, settling to lay on her stomach next to him. 

He nodded, flipped up the black face mask he was wearing, bit off the top and tossed back the stick. “Thanks,” he mumbled, sliding the mask back into place.

It was eerie, interacting with him like this. He _sounded_ like himself, but different. Pretty reminiscent of their time in the cabin, but kind of… cold.

The Soldier, obviously, but kind of _not_ , too.

She watched a lady walking her dog down below and noticed him adjust as he followed her. Apparently, that was one of the ‘targets’?

“What, uh, alerted you? To them?”

She felt him shift beside her and blow out a slow breath. She carefully kept her eyes on the street. “Too many passes by the same corner. Street light took three seconds longer to change from red to green. Knew it was a code.”

Wow.

Darcy was pretty damn sure it was not a code, since the lady just accidentally stepped in her dog’s shit and was now gesturing wildly on the street, kids passing by pointing and laughing. That was a lot of to-do for someone incognito.

However, this was an excellent reminder of just how observant and watchful he was all the time, and just how complex and complicated things were between them. 

Sam was right. They needed to take _everything_ slow.

“I see,” she replied, tossing back a pixie stick of her own. “And the elevators?”

She felt him shrug. “Emergency protocols. Have to go into lockdown until the situation is resolved.” He said it like it was obvious, like how could she not have known there was a situation that needed resolving.

She was in so far over her head here it wasn’t even funny. “Hm,” she said, before she realized it was awfully quiet in here when she had in fact made a playlist for just such an occasion, when the Soldier felt like putting in an un-summoned appearance. “And Jarvis?”

“Enemy agent. Had to disable.”

Naturally.

That was just fucking peachy.

At least he was calm. That was a good sign, right? How should she be acting right now, anyway? It wasn’t like she had requested him. A streetlight took too long to change, and bam, there he was.

Good thing Natasha was on her way with Sam and Steve as backup. She was worried she might need it. From the way it sounded he wanted to take out a woman walking her dog and the bakery delivery guy down the street, which was _not_ how this day was supposed to go.

She nudged his shoulder and held up another pixie stick. “Need a re-fuel? Missions make me hungry.”

He raised a brow and nodded, once again taking the stick, lifting his mask, and tossing it back. This time, when he went to put the mask back in place she held up a hand and gently touched a sparkly purple nail to his leather glove. “Do you really think you need that? I bet its probably safe without it.”

Not that it wasn’t sexy as all _fuck_ , but still. No masks in the blanket fort.

It was unnerving, being the sole focus of the Soldier’s attention. He narrowed his eyes and stared at her _hard_. She’d never felt quite so.. well, so _seen_ before. “That is your assessment?”

She held his gaze and slowly nodded. “Yes.” Good, she sounded firm. She didn’t sound at all like her insides were now on her outsides for the entire world to see.

He left the mask off and went back to peering through the scope.

A small victory. Darcy bit her lip and contemplated her options. Should she stall until the others arrived, or would that just make things worse? Should she try to un-summon him? Kissing didn’t really seem to be the thing to do here, but it wasn’t like she could have him gunning down innocent pedestrians.

She pursed her lip in thought before he slid the scope over in her direction. “What do you make of this behavior? The target is approaching the townhouse. Do we engage?”

No. 

That was a big fat nope.

She didn’t need to look to know _nope nope nope_.

She humored him, though, bought herself a little more time, and looked down the scope. Yep, still just a stuck-up socialite dragging along a poor innocent yorkie with shit on her Manolo pumps. Nope, still not an enemy combatant as far as she could tell.

She pulled back to look him right in the eye. “Do _you_ think we need to engage?”

He blinked.

He blinked again.

As he blinked a third time it hit her. Holy fucking shitballs. She had _stunned_ the Winter Soldier.

That deserved some kind of award. An _extra_ taser just for awesomeness. 

He was frowning hard now as he manhandled the rifle away from her to look through the lens again. The woman was almost back to the townhouse. She held her breath until he finally, _finally_ replied.

“Target is likely harmless in current capacity. Recommend do not engage.”

She nodded and gave him a small smile as she patted him on the back. “Yep, I agree, big guy.”

He suddenly swiveled back in her direction, catching her off guard with the intensity of his stare. “Darcy Lewis.” 

A statement, not a question.

She frowned. “Yeah?”

He was silent, watching her. She could hear her hearting beating a mile a minute. 

They stayed like that for what was probably seconds but felt like _hours_ as he stared and stared and _stared_ until finally, he nodded. “All clear.”

Then his lips crashed down on hers, and she forgot why it wasn’t a good time for that kind of thing, after all.

Darcy felt dizzy with the sudden change of pace, emotional whiplash shocking her from anxiety to lust in two seconds flat. She clung to his broad shoulders as she felt his lips, soft and smooth, teasing hers until she was sure she would melt into a puddle of need right in the middle of his fort. She felt his tongue tease at the seam of her lips, and she parted on a sigh that faded into a soft moan when she felt his tongue slide into her mouth. 

At the sound of her moan, he flipped her onto her back and covered her in one smooth motion. Lust was flowing over her, falling around her, the onslaught so thick she could nearly taste it, his and hers swirling and pulsing through them until her grip tightened nearly to the point of pain on his shoulders, knuckles white. He was squeezing her and kissing her so hard she could scarcely _breathe._

Darcy pulled back with a gasp as she felt his hand slide down to graze the curve of her hip, and as she forced her eyes open she saw his heavy-lidded gaze burn down into her. She swallowed, her eyes fluttering briefly shut then back open, before her kiss-swollen lips spread into a smile. 

“Doll,” he whispered hoarsely, deep voice heavier with desire. _There_ was Sergeant Sex Barnes. Oh, how she’d missed him. “If you want me to stop, you have to tell me now.”

No.

No no no _no_. 

_Hell to the mother fucking no_. Darcy felt heat pooling between her thighs, and her eyes flashed up at him as her smile dipped into a smirk. “So help me God if you stop now I will tase you to _Asgard_ , do you understand me?” 

His chuckle echoed into the room as he dipped his head to press heated kisses into her neck, his lips spreading as his teeth nipped love bites, his tongue slipping out to soothe them away. She felt him smile into her neck as she shivered. “So don’t stop, then,” he rumbled into her ear, chuckling again as she practically whined and bucked her pelvis up into him.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” she moaned breathily as his flesh hand came up to tease the top of her breasts through her thin cotton shirt. 

He nipped at the lobe of her ear and mouthed a trail down to the curve of her neck, over and up to her other ear. “Gonna make you say my name all _night_ , Darcy doll,” he whispered, making her shiver, arch her back, and full out _keen_ as his thumb brushed over her nipple through her shirt.

She tried to ignore the voice in the back of her head that warned she was probably two seconds away from being Cap-blocked again and she shouldn’t get her hopes up.

She tried to ignore the fact that the Soldier had just, once again, put in an appearance to threaten innocent civilians.

She tried to ignore everything but the way his teeth felt grazing over her collarbone and his hand felt sliding up under her shirt, just _inches_ from sliding up under her bra. The way he was hard and heavy pressing against her thigh and she was wet and aching as she ground into his tactical pants.

Which was exactly when Captain _Fucking_ America chose to make his grand entrance, of course.

In all his star-spangled glory Cappy crashed down from the open vent in their ceiling and knocked over poor Frederick the Fern from the side table, that bastard.

Sergeant Barnes sprung to action immediately, yanking her to her feet and tugging her behind him as he took a defensive position. 

“What the fuck, Stevie?” 

_What the fuck, Stevie,_ was fucking right. He was literally wearing his _cape_.

“Oh, you recognize me!” 

She could hear his arm whirring as his stance shifted. “’Course I recognize you, punk, what the fuck is that s’posed to mean?”

Steve pointedly eyed the furniture at the door and the blankets at their feet. “Wasn’t sure if you were, uh, _present_.”

Any hope she had of convincing Sergeant Sex Barnes to pick up where he’d left off was quickly dashed when she watched him spin around the room in a panic, eyeing their furniture and then the now-collapsed fort. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” he whispered.

“Yep,” Darcy said with a grimace. “That just about sums it up for me, too, big guy. What do you say we order pizza, call up the Sam-man, and put this place back to rights, yeah?”

Good ole Cappy was already moving to rescue Frederick. “Make one Hawaiian with extra pineapple, please, Darcy?”

She made her way to her tablet sitting on the kitchen island and quickly righted the security protocols.

_Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Aderendal who came up with "Cap-blocked" :) :) Thanks for letting me use it in the story!!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rare Thursday update!!
> 
> I have a work gig all next week and don't think I'll be able to post on Tuesday, so here is some NSFW content as an apology. :)
> 
> Enjoy!!

Darcy stood the next morning in leggings and a sports bra in the center of the training ring, fingers twitching in anticipation as she waited for Natasha’s next attack. 

“Just trust your instincts, Darcy,” Bruce’s voice called out from her left. Only Clint (or as the big guy called him, Vent-guy) and Bruce had joined them for this morning’s session.

Darcy had stayed up the vast majority of the night camped out in the living room with said Sergeant Sexy and Clint Barton, her new best fucking buddy. 

He was the Philoctetes to her Hercules.

The Mickey to her Rocky.

The Frankie Dunn to her Maggie Fitzgerald.

Fuck, he was the Yoda to her goddamned Luke Skywalker, and it had only taken him a fucking _night_ to take her from zero to goddamned hero.

She was mixing storyline metaphors, but who the fuck cared. She was about to rock _Natalia’s_ Black Widow socks off.

Or at the very least, hold her own a little better. Clint wasn’t _actually_ a miracle worker, after all.

He had, however, introduced her to something called Aikido, a Japanese martial art style that enabled her to redirect her attacker’s, well, _attacks_ , and use that force against them. From what he’d taught her so far, she’d learned a boilerplate of joint locking and throwing techniques to counteract even the big guy’s attacks when they’d practiced overnight. 

Said big guy had kicked things up a notch once she got a few basics down, and started teaching her a few strikes and attacks lifted from Krav Maga, in order for her to strike when Natasha least expected it.

All of these things were designed to play into Darcy’s natural strengths, and the mixed approach was supposed to give her a leg-up on experienced fighters if she was ever stuck in a combat situation again. _Ultimately_ , however, Clint’s entire plan hinged on the fact that this would be an approach of last resort.

After an hour with a Starkpad, they’d all realized her true talent came to organization and direction, with a little side of hacking, to boot. In fact, she now had a private meeting with Tony scheduled for tomorrow afternoon for her to review the entire Stark Enterprises security system and protocols.

It was goddamned _exhilarating_ , and she _finally_ felt like she had something to contribute to the team.

Now, however, Darcy was about to see whether her little martial arts lessons were worth the all-nighter she’d pulled training, rather than working out her _tension_ with Sergeant Sex Barnes.

Her _secret_ martial arts lessons, because for once in her life, Darcy Lewis was going to get the upper hand on Natasha Romanoff. 

Darcy licked her lips with anticipation, feeling a nervous thrum of excitement shoot through her. She _finally_ was starting to feel like she was getting somewhere, and was excited to see if anything paid off.

As Natasha took two steps towards her, Darcy practiced her eye-sweeping detection and breathing techniques, and almost felt like time seemed to slow. Everything faded into the background, and she saw Natasha’s leg arc out in a sweeping motion, cutting through the air as it climbed upwards towards her face. 

She’d practiced for this exact attack over a billion (more like thirty) times with Clint and James overnight, and she was so fucking ready she was nearly shaking with excitement.

With a steady exhale, Darcy felt her body move of its own volition, dipping to the side and twisting while her arm snaked out, fist closing over the ankle of the foot that kicked where she’d been not a moment before. She clamped down hard, and in the blink of an eye felt herself launching Natasha over her head and slamming her body down hard into the training mat. She watched as ripples of the impact rolled in slow motion over her skin, the sickening sound of a thud followed by a hiss of pain reaching her ears as she dropped into a fight stance, bracing for the next attacker.

Except there wasn’t one. 

Natasha was flat on her back on the floor.

Darcy Lewis had flipped the _Black Widow_ onto the training mat.

Fuck _yes._

Darcy’s eyes flew open wide as she popped up in panic out of her stance, kneeling quickly to press her hand to Natasha’s neck before the redhead smacked her arm away with a wry grin. 

“Well, I’d say Hawk wasn’t kidding when he said you were up practicing new moves,” she said tightly, rolling slightly to glare at Bruce who was watching with stunned amazement from the sidelines. 

That fucker. They pulled an all-nighter only for Vent Guy to sell her out right before her training session? 

What a _bastard_. 

She was going to sick the big guy on him next time _they_ sparred as a little thank you.

Darcy saw Bruce's jaw snap shut with a loud crack, and he whistled as he turned and strolled back towards the elevator, calling out over his shoulder as the doors opened. “I think you may be ready to start sparring with more people than just Natasha, Darcy,” he drawled casually, eyes twinkling a bit as the doors closed and Natasha cursed him.

“Oh, you think so,” Natasha grumbled, before slowing pulling her up to stand.

“I am so so so sorr-“

“Don’t even say it,” Natasha cut her off with a snarl, before shaking her head with a roll of her eyes and a smile. She gave herself a little shake before stretching and crossing her arms, leaning on her hip as Darcy smiled ruefully at her. “Now, how about we fine-tune your new tricks and really see what you can do?”

~*~

Four hours later, Darcy walked out of the elevator, smiling wide as she made her way to her room. She was practically filled with glee at the thought of getting in a good hit or two on either Cappy or Sharky before they realized how much she’d improved _again_ once Natasha jumped onto where Clint was taking her training. 

Natasha took what Clint had taught her and amped it up by, like, ten thousand, teaching her to be ‘fast as a viper and coy as a cobra’. She was _lightning_ fast now, to the point where it felt like the world slowed down more than it felt like she sped up. Her reflexes were quicker than a cat, and she’d been able to easily (with, like, a fuck-ton of effort because let’s be honest she had just started to make progress here) dodge every punch, kick, or object Natasha had thrown at her. 

Thank _Thor_ she’d been running miles around the city with Natasha every morning, because her stamina sure as fuck needed it. Actually, her stamina still kind of sucked balls if she was being honest about it, and she was winded in like five fucking minutes and kept needing water breaks.

But hey, that would improve with all this meaningless jogging Natasha was making her do, right?

The sounds of a friendly argument greeted her ears as she opened the door to her living room, and she giggled with amusement as she saw both Cappy and Sergeant Sexy standing in shorts and t-shirts, shouting at the TV, while Clint and Sam sat on another couch, cheering on whatever was playing. A chorus of “aw’s” and “boo’s” shook the room as she dug into the box of pizza on the kitchen island, swinging into a bar stool and spinning so she could see what the fuss was about.

“These guys seriously think their ninjas?” Cappy was yelling, gesturing wildly, scoffing as Sam nodded with amusement.

“It’s just a glorified obstacle course!” Barnes was yelling with bemusement, scoffing as a contestant fell off the first obstacle with a splash into the water.

“Guys, I seriously can’t believe you’ve never heard of American Ninja Warrior before,” Sam was grinning widely, chuckling as Steve and Clint entered into a debate on the appropriate strategy for scaling the sixteen foot wall at the end. 

James leapt over the back of the couch and prowled up to her, smiling wide. “Hey, doll,” he said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her check. “How’d it go?”

She swallowed a bite of pizza and shrugged, trying to fight the smile threatening to spread over her face. “Pretty well,” she said casually, not quite hiding the smugness in her eyes. 

He chuckled, leaning in close as his arm came out to brace itself on the counter behind her. “I’m happy to hear that. Care to test out your new skills tomorrow morning?”

She shrugged again, blinking innocently before smirking. “If you think you can handle me.”

He leaned in close, his nose grazing the slope of her ear as his breath fanned out to tickle her skin. “I’m always up for a challenge, Darcy doll. Especially when it comes to you.”

She giggled, shoving at him playfully while taking another bite of her pizza. “By the way,” he said casually, nodding towards the counter behind her, “you got a package while you were in the gym. Jarvis said it’s from Jane, her and Thor just got back to Midgarth or whatever but had to go off to Norway to confirm some research.”

Clapping her hands excitedly and pushing the rest of her crust into her mouth, Darcy spun the stool to reach across the counter for the brown box. She felt a metal finger trail from the top of her neck down to the small of her back, lightly touching her skin and leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake as it slipped from skin to sports tank to skin, stopping before he leaned in close and pressed a soft kiss to the side of her neck. “I like your outfit, by the way,” he rumbled huskily, before she felt him pulling away.

Darcy flipped a smile over her shoulder as she spun back around with the box in her hands. “Then you better look out tomorrow, Barnesadoodle. I’ll have you begging me for mercy before you know it,” she teased. 

The look he gave her as he flipped back over the couch sent a jolt of electricity straight down to curl her toes. “Challenge accepted, doll. I can’t wait to see your pretty mouth beg.” 

Darcy felt herself flushed scarlet at the whoops and catcalls from the superheroes gathered around the TV, and with a roll of her eyes she slipped off the stool and retreated into her room with her package from the boss lady.

Tearing it open, she found a note pinned to the top of a thick manila envelope. 

_Darce,_

_‘Son of Coul’ (LOL) told me to give this to you and let you make your own decision._

_I know you’ve already made the right one. If anyone gets it, its me (with Thor)._

_Love you. Be safe._

_Janey_

The taste of the pizza had turned to ash in her mouth, and Darcy felt her stomach roil as her hands started to shake while she finished the letter. She fought to slow her breathing, her heart racing as she tore open the file with a sense of dread.

Polaroid’s and newspaper clippings, one right after the other, the file so thick there must have been thousands. Tears started to pour down her face as she collapsed on her bed, flipping through the file angrily until the sight of one picture brought her up short. Blinking back the tears, Darcy reached out to trail her finger over the cold, hard face she’d come to know so well. 

There was her big guy, in full Winter Soldier mode, standing over the body of a family he’d just slaughtered, wiping the blood off of his metal fingers with the woman’s shirt. 

The door flew open and Darcy quickly jerked her hand away like it had been burned, shoving the folder behind her and giving James a watery smile. “Darce,” he questioned, voice heavy with concern. He crossed the room quickly, reaching out to gently clasp her hands in his. “What’s wrong?”

She tried to force another smile as the tears quickly fell, before pulling her hands away to wipe her face. She waved him off, pulling herself off the bed and nodding towards the bathroom. “Nothing, just… Family drama. I’m just going to shower, okay? I don’t really want to talk about it.”

The look of concern made her heart just about break, and she gave him another forced smile as she scooped up the folder, pushing it into the top drawer of her desk. She turned around to see the worried look on his face and waved him off. “Really, dude. Just give me a few minutes, okay? Then I’ll come out and join you guys. Its, uh, ya know. Girl stuff.”

She could see it all over his face, he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t push her. 

She should have known better than to think she was in the clear.

She should have known better than to forget she lived with, above all else, _spies_. 

He nodded, giving her a supportive smile as he reached out to brush a tear away with the pad of his thumb, before turning and walking back out of her room. With a shaky sigh, Darcy gathered up a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and made her way into their bathroom. Flipping on the shower, she stripped down slowly, rolling her shoulders before stepping into the steaming water. As the droplets drenched her hair and cascaded down her skin, Darcy felt the tension draining away from her shoulders. She lathered the shampoo into her hair, swallowing down a fresh lump of tears at the thought of that file, as her thoughts turned to the man at the center of it all. 

She rinsed away the dirt, sweat and grime of the day, sighing heavily as she debated whether or not to tell him about the file. She felt like she owed him an explanation, and she knew he was concerned. She was terrified though that he may take it the wrong way. What if he thought she was crying _because_ of him, and not _for_ him? What if he thought it changed how she felt about him?

The last thing in the world he needed was to feel _worse_. The poor guy’s confidence was minuscule enough as it was.

Darcy bit her lip as she flipped the water off, reaching around the door for a towel. Just as she was stepping out and wiping the water from her legs, she felt a profound sense of anguish, followed by a fury and hatred so intense she had to grip the counter to keep her knees from buckling out from under her.

Darcy heard glass break, and she struggled to force the towel around her as she threw open the door and sprinted back out into the common room, just in time to see James’ back as he slammed shut the door to his room. 

“What the hell happened?” Steve yelled in bewilderment, walking from the couch over to her room. Glancing in the open door she could see shards of glass and the polaroid pictures from the file were littered over the floor.

Darcy swallowed down the bile rising in her throat as she felt his frustration, his self-hatred, his fear, his loathing, all rolling out from his closed bedroom door and over her. 

Oh, fuck. 

Fuckity fuck fuck _fuck_. She should have _known_ better than this. She should have dealt with it right away, should have explained and made it clear none of it mattered to her.

She hadn’t even realized she’d come to a stop in front of his door until she felt Sam lightly pat her bare shoulder. “Just be honest with him, Darcy. No matter how you feel. It’s what he needs.”

She swallowed down a wave of tears and nodded. “James?” She called softly, knocking on his door before twisting the handle.

She heard something else shatter as she tried twisting again. “James? Unlock the door, please.” She tried to keep her voice calm, and heard Sam encouraging Clint and Steve to follow him out of the room, shutting the door to their common room softly behind him.

The sound of more glass shattering, this time against the door itself, came to her ears. “James?” She tried again, more firmly this time. “Open the door, big guy.”

When silence greeted her ears, she shut her eyes and pressed her forehead to the door.

One lone tear slid down her cheek, but instead of giving in it made her _angry_.

How _dare_ ‘Son of Coul’ send this shit to her through Jane?

How _dare_ he stick his big fat iPod-stealing nose into her business, _again_?

How _dare_ she feel sad for herself when she needed to be strong, pull her shit together, and be there for _him_.

Fuck her tears. Fuck her heartbreak over his past. 

Fuck it _all_.

He _needed_ her, and you know what, she needed him, too. 

Maybe even just as much. Maybe even more.

“Sharky?” She whispered, “Please don’t shut me out.”

Not even a whisper. Not a single sliver of emotion, either.

The silence was deafening, and so draining she almost cried all over again.

“Please,” she called out a little desperately through the door again. “ _Please_ , big guy. Please don’t shut me out. Don’t you _dare_ do that to me.”

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

She heard the proverbial pin drop, and it set off her anger once more.

“Jarvis,” she said firmly, steeling her nerves as she wrapped the towel more firmly around her. “Open this door right the fuck now. And start up the ‘So you had a bad day’ Playlist, while you’re at it.”

She heard the lock click open, and as she pushed it wide she ducked to avoid the oncoming picture frame he had hurled at her head, hearing it smash into the wall behind her. 

Well, that bullshit was uncalled for. She knew he missed on purpose, but still.

He was not _two_.

Her anger reignited, because now that she thought about it if he’d just let her explain after her shower none of this bullshit would have happened. Well, it at least wouldn’t have been as bad. She was sure of it.

_Let You Down_ by NF drifted from the ceiling as she pushed the door shut behind her she carefully stepped over the bits of glass up to where James was now standing with his back turned towards her. 

“Get out,” he whispered softly, fury coming off of his tense shoulders in waves as he balled his fists at his side. 

Well, good. At least they were both pissed.

“No,” she said defiantly, coming up to stand behind him. 

“Get out,” he said a little more forcefully, tone hard as she saw the muscles in his back start to twitch.

Gingerly, she raised a palm to press her fingertips gently into his back before he violently shuddered, ripping away from her like she’d burned him. He spun around, face contorted with rage as he roared so loudly her ears started to ring. “Get out!”

 

Her anger flew out in a rush that left her breathless and so, well, so _sad_. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away and forced herself to slowly reach out, placing her hands on top of his closed fists. “I will never leave you, James,” she whispered softly, eyes shining as she looked up at the visible pain in his. 

His stone face shifted, mask falling until she watched a tear trickle out from behind his now closed eyelids. “I ruined your life,” he said softly, voice breaking in anguish. “I tried to warn you, doll. I’m a fucking monster.” He ripped his hands out of her grip, stalking towards the door and throwing it open wide. “Get out!” He yelled again, eyes blazing as he pointed towards the doorway. 

“I can’t.” Her voice cracked a little, and she saw confusion win out on his face as some of his anger dissipated. 

“What do you mean? Why not?”

She smiled softly, gazing at him across the glass and blood. “Isn’t it obvious?”

He shook his head, annoyance in his eyes as he sighed heavily. “No, doll.” She watched as he kicked the door back shut behind him and stepped over the shattered fragments of glass to come to stand in front of him. 

She reached up, fingertips brushing against his strong jaw before she trailed her hand back to tangle in his hair. She rose up on her tip toes, bringing her lips close to his, and watched as his eyes started to fall shut. “Because, James Buchanan Barnes. I don’t think you’re a monster. Not even a little bit. I don’t hate you. I don’t think you’re terrible, or a bad person. And I don’t blame you for your past.” 

He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes tight, bringing his arms to wrap around her and pull her close against him. “You don’t?” He whispered softly, voice so small it just about broke her heart all over again.

“No, big guy,” she whispered back tenderly, 

“Bucky,” he cut in as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

She felt her lips tug into a crooked grin as she slid her other hand up over his shoulder to tangle with her other hand in the hair at the nape of his neck. “ _Bucky_ ,” she tested it out.

She felt a shiver roll through her, and she couldn’t for the fucking life of her pinpoint whether it was his or hers.

_Bucky_.

It felt so _right_.

She said it again.

“ _Bucky_ , I don’t blame you. I don’t hold you responsible, or accountable, and I don’t think a single one of the thousand awful things I bet you think I do.”

He sighed heavily, tilting his head to press his forehead tightly against hers. “Then what do you think?” He whispered against her lips.

It hit her like a crack to her ribs from the Black Widow. 

Oh, holy shitballs.

Holy _fucking_ shitballs.

Well, there was nothing for it. Might as well toss all her eggs into the basket, saddle up her big-girl saddle, and put it out there in the world for all and sundry to hear.

Darcy smiled, leaned back a bit, and wiggled her nose against his until he opened his eyes wide. “I think,” she paused, biting her lip before smiling wide. “I think I might be falling in love with you.”

~*~

He felt his smile spread so wide it fucking _hurt_ , and still it was pressing wider still. His eyes roamed over her face, noting the flush in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes, the graceful arch of her brow. 

_I think I might be falling in love with you._

The words echoed in his mind, bouncing in his brain, penetrating the pain and darkness that were usually dominant. Lighting up every frayed nerve ending still firing until all he was, all he’d ever be, was who he was when he was with her. 

Right here, in this very moment. 

His heart squeezed and fluttered as he saw the truth of her words shining through in her eyes. And then he _felt_ it, sweeping over him, soothing like a balm on the pain etched into what was left of his heart. 

He opened his mouth, hopeful words eager to pour out, until his eyes went wide and he snapped it shut, declarations dying behind fear and closed lips.

Her expression changed, confusion dancing in to dull a bit of the brightness as her brow creased and she tilted her head. “Bucky?”

He shuddered, the sound of his name on her lips doing shit to him deep inside, healing a little bit of every damaged piece of his soul. Her voice was lighter than air, floating in to warm what had long been collapsed into a cold shell inside him, and he drew up short again. 

He flicked his gaze to hers and what he saw there stole his fucking _breath_. Darcy was so, so-

_Soft_. Soft smile, soft eyes, soft skin. Her soft fingertips twined a few strands of his hair before she brought her hand down his neck to cup the side of his cheek. “It’s okay, Bucky,” she said warmly, blowing a fresh wind of light to clear out his soul. “I don’t expect you to say anything. I just thought… Well, I thought you should know.” She finished with a light shrug, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

As if she hadn’t just handed him the stars when he didn’t even know anything was past the clouds.

He sucked in a breath, and was about to smile until her words pushed through his thick skull, bringing his racing heart and thoughts up short.

She didn’t actually think he didn’t feel the same way about her, did she?

Oh, Darcy doll. She was too smart to think that.

He snorted with incredulous amusement, until he saw her brow crease again and then he realized with alarm that yes, she very much did.

His jaw dropped open, and finally the words that had been on the tip of his tongue were sailing out before he could shut them back in again. “You got me all wrong, doll. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say.” He saw her frown deepen, and with a leap of faith, showed her his hand, showed her everything he had left in that tiny corner of his soul left untainted by death and filled with _her_.

“I just… I could say it back, doll. I could tell you that I’m falling in love with you too. That I’ve been falling since you saw me at my worst in your Hydra cell and _smiled_. That I’ve thought of you and only you since I first saw you chained to that chair. That every night I dance with you behind my eyes the way we did in that cabin, in that bar, in that club. That I want nothing more than to dance with you every night of our lives, for the rest of our lives, if you’ll take my hand.” He thumbed away her tears, sucked in a breath and let it all out.

He owed her that and more, so much more he’d say every single thought or feeling he had for the rest of his _life_ if that was what it took for her to know how much she mattered. “I could tell you that I love the way you laugh, and the way you give, and the way you care, and the way you cry. I could tell you all those things and more, a thousand times over, sweetheart, and all of it would be true. That you’re the most beautiful dame I’ve ever seen. That yours is the face I see when I first wake up in the morning, and when I close my eyes at night. That yours is the only face I want to see for all the time in between. I could tell you all of that, and it doesn’t even scratch the surface of what you mean to me, of what I want for us, of what I feel for you now, Darcy doll.” He shrugged a bit and smiled, bringing his metal hand up to catch more tears now slipping out of her wide watery eyes and tracing trails to her tremulous smile. 

“I could tell you all of that, princess, and I will, and more, every day of my life. But it’s not enough. It’s not even close. So I just didn’t say anything at all.” 

Smiling like a fool, wiping tears from his girl’s eyes, he leaned down close to her face, breath feathering over her flushed cheeks and the tears on her skin. “See, doll, I’m more of a man of action.” Using his metal finger, he gently tipped up her chin, and his eyes flutter closed as he brushed his lips to hers.

~*~

Darcy was on _fire_. 

Her heart was slamming away in her chest, her skin was dancing with tingles of delight, and the light press of his lips was making her pant when she felt that finally, _finally_ , she was free from Cappy and his Cap-blocking glory.

She tilted her head to deepen the kissing, pouring every single fiber of her _soul_ into it as she let herself fall away on the tide of love and lust. She felt his finger trail down from her neck to tease the top of her breast above her towel.

“How had I not, until this moment, registered this delightful little towel you’re wearing, doll?” He asked with amusement, trailing kisses and nips and licks down over her collarbone, down to the top of the towel and across her flushed skin, then back up the other collarbone to the other side of her neck.

His hands slid down her hips on either side to graze the backs of her thighs, her skin still slightly damp with droplets she’d neglected to dry off just below the bottom edge of the towel. As his metal fingers danced around the hem of the towel, around the outside of her thigh and across the front, teasing inches below where she was damp and slick with need, she broke apart on a shudder. “Bucky,” she moaned, her voice tight with need, as he continued his tortuous circle of kisses from neck, to collarbone, across the tops of her breasts, and back up the other side of her neck. 

She heard him chuckle again on the side of her neck and decided enough was enough. Pushing back in his arms, she shot him a playful glare at the smug smile on his face. “Something wrong, princess?” His face was all confidence, but the tremor in his voice and the desire she felt flowing out of him gave him away, and she gave him a slow smile as she brought her hands up to tease the top of the towel. 

“Why yes, as a matter of fact there _is_ something wrong,” she teased, batting her eyelashes as she pushed him back with one hand until the backs of his knees hit the edge of his bed. 

“Oh yeah? What’s that, doll?” He smirked at her, eyes dancing, until he watched as she slowly undid the tuck of her towel, pulling it apart and letting it slide down her naked skin to drop to her feet. 

Take _that_ , Sergeant Sex Barnes.

Darcy she smiled wide as his jaw dropped and he sat on the bed in a graceless huff. “Too many clothes,” she said simply, tilting her hip and pushing out her chest as she watched his jaw snap shut and he swallowed hard. 

With a growl, his metal hand snaked out to clamp down lightly on her wrist, and he yanked her forward until she collapsed on top of him, giggling into his chest. She straddled his thighs, pressing against him as she reached behind him to grab hold of the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his arms until she could press against him, skin on skin. His pressed his palms into the front of her thighs, bringing them up slowly over her flat belly, up across her waist until he was cradling her breasts in his hands and his thumbs were brushing lazy circles over her pebbled nipples, on metal and one flesh, the combination sending shivers racing down her spine and dampening the tops of her inner thighs. “So beautiful,” he rasped, eyes roaming over her pale skin, before he leaned down to take one taut nipple into his mouth.

She threaded her fingers through his hair and moaned as she felt his teeth graze her nipple while his tongue laved at the skin, because yes yes _yes_. She had waited for this and wanted this for so _long_ and it was finally _happening_ and it was better than she’d ever _dreamed_. “Bucky,” she whispered tightly, arching her back so she pressed into his mouth while she ground her hips down into his lap.

She was pressing tighter up against him, body heated and desperate for friction, desperate for release, desperate for _him_. 

If Cappy so much as texted her, let alone knocked on that door, she was going to literally tase him until his goddamned balls fell off, she swore to fucking _Thor_. 

Darcy felt Bucky’s hand skate back down over her ribs, following the curve of her spine until he kneaded into the flesh, sending a fresh wave of desire down as her head started to spin. Bringing her hands up the muscular ridges of his abdomen, Darcy gently pushed against his broad chest, laying him back until she was leaning over him while he reclined on the bed. She left a trail of kisses from his neck, down the center of his chest, peppering over his abdomen until she stopped to swipe her tongue through his navel. His body rippled under in response, clenching as he gasped while she gently nipped his skin before tracing the trail of hair that led down below his navel to the top of his athletic shorts. She felt his eyes burning down on the top of her head as she gently grasped the waistband of shorts and boxers together, pulling them down slowly while he raised his hips, and she left a teasing trail of kisses and nips across his thighs as she pushed them all the way down and off. 

Raising her head from his knee, Darcy sucked in a breath at the sight of his erection pointing proudly into the air. “God _damnit_ , Sergeant Sex Barnes,” she breathed, and she heard his rumble of laughter before his hands came down to grip her arms tightly and he flipped them over, tossing her onto the bed while he came to rest over her on his elbows. 

“Sergeant Sex Barnes, reporting for booty,” he said with a chuckle, growling as she teasingly nipped his collar to stifle a giggle.

Seriously, though. 

He was packing some _serious_ heat. Like, _serious_. As in, he was _enormous_. Thick and long in all the right ways, and all she could think was yes yes _yes_. 

With wide eyes she licked her dry lips before looking back up at the smug face hovering over her. 

“I take it you don’t want me to stop?” He teased, eyes dancing as he saw her playfully narrow her eyes up at him. He grinned slyly at her before bending his head to leave a trail of kisses down the soft skin of her belly, to the smooth skin between her thighs. As his hands came down to spread her legs and slip under to hold her still, he peaked up at her.

They were just getting started, and Darcy was pretty sure she was about to _die_. 

Darcy had been with her fair share of mankind. She was used to tentative bumblings and uncertain approaches when the male species approached her lady bits. Her expectations were set pretty damn low, really, when it came to a guy venturing that far south, especially with his mouth.

So when Bucky locked eyes with her and dove right in like a man starved, she just about splintered into a thousand needy pieces. 

Her eyes held his, and she watched as his tongue came out to part her lips and he licked a long, firm stroke right up to her clit. With a loud cry, Darcy threw her head back and her eyes rolled shut, legs starting to shake as he flicked his tongue back and forth, slowly teasing her clit. 

It was like he’d been down there a billion fucking times and knew his way around, and it was fucking _amazing_. When her breath hitched in and her thighs quivered he flattened his tongue and slid it down to her center, plunging it into her before licking back up to gently suck her clit between his lips while he pushed two flesh fingers right into her core. 

Darcy’s fingers were curling to fist into the sheets, and if he hadn’t thrown his arm over her hips she would have pushed clear off the bed as she felt his mouth and tongue and fingers flicking and sucking and thrusting, making her head spin faster and faster as she _drowned_ in it, writhing and moaning and gasping with abandon as she chased her peak. 

Darcy felt a third finger enter her she heard him rumble between her thighs. “Come on, Darcy doll. Come apart on my fingers and my mouth. You taste so good, doll, I want to taste you all night.” 

Darcy felt her mind spin, shivers dancing all over her skin as her core tightened and her hands gripping the sheets nearly to the point of _pain_ as he continued to work her over. She could hear herself chanting “ _Bucky, Bucky, Bucky_ ” as her voice rose higher and higher, until he moaned, right into her center, and she broke into a thousand pieces as she clenched down, thighs shaking as her core tightened and she rode his hand, her orgasm sweeping over her so fiercely she screamed his name and saw the stars.

It could have been seconds but it felt like _hours_ when she finally came back down.

Darcy’s eyes fluttered open as she felt him crawl up over her, and he pushed his erection against her wetness, stroking the head against her clit until she was twitching and moaning once again, desire pooling as she ached for more. He captured her lips in a bruising kiss, plunging his tongue into her so she could taste herself on his lips before raising his head to look into her eyes. 

There was no second-guessing this time, no tentative touches or gentle lead-ins. Just a whispered “I love you, Darcy,” a crooked grin, and he thrust himself in up to the hilt between her thighs. 

She saw honest to god stars _again_ as she arched her back and took him in. She felt herself stretching just to the edge of pleasure and pain as he filled her completely. Her eyes fluttered open and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, and her heart flipped over at the look of pure awe stretching across his face. 

His jaw was slack, eyes hooded as he slowly started to move within her, thrusting as she ground up to meet him stroke for stroke, twisting her hips so he hit her just _right_. He groaned loudly as he felt her clench around him, walls fluttering as he started to thrust harder, until his hips were slamming into her and shaking the bedframe against the wall while she moaned his name and raked her fingers across his back. It built and built until she clenched down tight around him once again as her orgasm flowed over her and she screamed his name. With a strangled cry he thrust into her a few more times, riding her through her pleasure until he came until her with a roar, tightening above her as he moaned her name like a prayer until he collapsed beside her.

Wow.

Fucking _wow_. 

She had nothing left but _wow_. 

Checkmate for Sergeant Sex Barnes.

~*~

He pulled her up tight into the curve of his metal arm, and once again thanked whatever god there was for bringing this dame to light up his life.

She rested her head against the crook of his neck and threaded her thigh between his, turning on her side and throwing her arm over his waist. He shifted to pull her closer in his arms and leaned his head down to rest his cheek on the top of her hair.

“I love you, Bucky Barnes,” she whispered, eyes fluttering shut as she relaxed into sleep.

He ducked his head to nose along her neck and lazily smiled as he whispered, “I love you, too, Darcy doll.” He watched her eyes drifted shut and began tracing patterns along her spine, content to just hold her and ground himself in his feelings of overwhelming contentedness. 

He heard her breathing slow and felt her relax into sleep, and he smiled to himself as he heard her softly start to snore. 

Not that he’d ever tell her, of course, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the cutest damn thing he’d ever heard. He smiled to himself as he closed his eyes, turning to press a gentle kiss to her head before leaning his cheek back against her hair. “Future Mrs. James Buchanan Barnes.” 

His mind quiet, he finally got his first full night of sleep since before he could remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Resolved Sexual Tension! WOOOO!
> 
> Hope I lived up to it <3
> 
> PS all credit for 'Sergeant Sex Barnes reporting for booty' goes to SoldiersandPirates who inspired it with a comment.
> 
> PPS I am not a one and done smut kinda gal, so there will be more where that came from :)
> 
> PPPS I attended the google school of martial arts so if I've misrepresented or mis-characterized I am SO SORRY. It is not intentional and not meant to be disrespectful.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY LOTS OF APOLOGIES.
> 
> I am a day late and I am so sorry. I picked up a new work client (YAY) but that means more work. I am still committed to trying to post at least once per week. I'll do my best!!!
> 
> This chapter is shorter than they have been recently. I know, I know, I'm the asshole posting late AND posting shorter than usual.
> 
> I AM SO SORRY. I hope the smut makes up for it XD
> 
> I love you guys and promise I'm not an ungrateful brat. Thank you so much for your continued support!!!

“So you’re telling me Mr. and Mrs. Shark Attack have never actually sparred together?” 

Steve shook his head with a grin, nodding towards his new (sometimes reluctantly called) friend and his pal in the center of the training mat. They were currently stretching out, and by the looks of the blush creeping up Darcy’s cheeks and the giggling he could hear, his pal was turning on the full Bucky Barnes charm.

“Well, we have to bet,” Sam drawled, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Um, of course we do,” Natasha agreed, sidling up next to him on the other side, a bowl of popcorn in her hands and a wide smirk on her face. 

“You’re just miffed your star pupil is too much for you to handle now,” Steve teased her, reaching over to take a large handful of popcorn and shoving it into his mouth, crunching loudly. It was one of her biggest pet peeves, discovered during one of Tony’s movie nights, and Steve had yet to miss an opportunity to exploit that weakness. 

You had to take what you could get with friends like the Black Widow.

“Well, clearly _I’m_ going to pick Bucky,” Steve announced, swiping for another handful of popcorn. Natasha whipped the bowl to the side in a flash, shooting him an annoyed glare, only to screech with alarm as Bruce took his own handful from where he’d joined on her other side.

He could be surprisingly stealthy when he wasn’t the Other Guy.

“Me too,” Bruce said around a large mouthful, smiling wide as he saw her glare at him and furiously start to guard the rest of her bowl. “Put me down for Sharky.”

“Sharky?” Tony snorted, eyebrows raised as he stepped up to the side of Sam, sunglasses still on even indoors.

Sometimes he still couldn’t believe how much things had changed since he first went on ice, even though it felt like just yesterday. As convenient as modern technology was, there were things he was raised to believe a man just didn’t do.

Like leave your sunglasses on indoors.

“You mean you haven’t heard their code names?” Natasha asked slyly, arching an eyebrow as her eyes flickered to Steve and then back to the objects of their wager, currently warming up as they got ready to go.

Tony lifted both eyebrows, shaking his head with exasperation as he demanded, “somebody fill me in, or you’re all evicted effective immediately.”

Bruce scoffed, “you would never follow through with that.”

Tony just shrugged and snuck a hand of Natasha’s dwindling popcorn, “hush, the squatters don’t know that yet.”

“Sharky and Shark Bait,” Steve announced proudly, grinning from ear to ear while Natasha snickered and Tony actually clapped with glee.

“I’ve got Shark Bait,” Natasha said shrewdly, lips pursed in thought.

“Is that because of some feminist agenda, girl power shit, or because she actually gets a few good hits in now when you spar?” 

Steve was willing to bet Tony would find himself on the wrong end of a retaliation prank in the very, _very_ near future.

“You know what, I’ll take Madame Shark Bait, too,” Tony said with a nod, clapping his heads as they started to circle each other in front of them. “Terms?”

“Dinner and a movie? Losers cook, winners choice,” Natasha said without hesitation, raising an eyebrow and practically daring them to disagree.

As Darcy squared up to face Bucky, Steve stifled a chuckle when Tony mockingly whispered _ding ding ding_.

~*~

Twisting and flipping to avoid Bucky’s kicks and attacks, Darcy no longer felt as though the world moved in slow motion while she was a bolt of lightning.

Fucking serums. Seriously, how was it even fair for normal people to compete with literal _super soldiers_.

For Thor’s sake it was in the damn _name_.

Apparently, he was no longer taking it easy on her like the practice in their room, either. She swiped her legs and saw him leap effortlessly back, only to charge forward again with a kick of his own. 

She most definitely was not quite the little streak of electric speed she had thought she was.

Sweat was rolling over her brow and into her eyes, and though she was starting to pant with the effort, Darcy was sure she’d never been so invigorated in all her life. They’d agreed to try not to cheat using their _emotional_ connection in order to test her abilities and build up her strength, but planned to start to use that and work out a rhythm sparring with Steve down the line.

For now though, Darcy was just plain trying to keep up.

He was magnificent, muscles and steel plates rippling, sweat dripping, and she had a hard time not just stopping and staring. 

And drooling.

And basically swooning to worship at his feet.

Good Thor, the man was hot as _fuck_.

By the steady darkening of his pupils the longer they sparred, he wasn’t so immune _her_ charms, either.

_Ha!_ Take that, Sergeant Sex Barnes. Darcy Lewis had a few tricks up her sleeve, too.

Except she wasn't actually wearing sleeves, because in a blatant attempt to gain a bit of advantage she’d opted for just a sports bra and black leggings. Natasha had been one giant cackle of encouragement, and had even painted a silver star to match the red one on his cybernetic right in the center of her chest.

The look on his face when she’d tossed off her baggy shirt and stepped up to spar had been _priceless_.

Switching up her attack, Darcy side swiped and tried to sneak in closer to land a jab on his jaw, getting a leaping start. In the blink of an eye, she felt herself flying through the air, strong arms latched around her waist, and then she smacked flat onto the mat with a loud “whoosh” of air and a grunt leaving her chest. 

He straddled her waist, a smirk playing about his face as he knew he winded her and thought he had her beat. 

Well, he did have her beat, that bastard. She tried to use her (still mostly nonexistent) abdominal muscles to lift her legs up and around, the thought being she would clamp down around his waist and twist with all her might until he was face down in the mat and she was straddled facing backwards over his back. She’d practiced it repeatedly with Natasha, and was now successful about seventy percent of the time.

Which would have been decent if he were a normal person, but again.

_Super. Soldier._

He chuckled over her when she didn’t even manage to shift him, that sexy bastard. The vibrations were doing strange things to the growing arousal between her thighs, that was for a fucking _fact_. 

Darcy momentarily blinked and lost focus when he collapsed down to sprawl on top of her between her thighs and press her back flat onto the mat. He was panting, sweat-slicked skin glistening as his dark hair fell in waves around his face, and before she could contemplate her next move his lips were crashing down onto hers, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and stealing what little she’d regained of her breath. 

Oh, fuck _yes_. 

Darcy forgot all about the sparring, and the people watching, and… fuck, she even forgot to fucking _breathe_ because his nipped her lip just right and she felt sparks shoot through every nerve in her body.

He ground his pelvis into hers, and with shaky hands Darcy slid her hands up his arms, over his broad shoulders to tangle in the hair at the nap of his neck. 

She was hot, and wet, and desperate, and she needed _more_ and she needed it _now_ and it didn’t matter that it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours because it wasn’t _enough_ they weren’t _close enough_ and she _ached_ and she _keened_ and she _needed_ like he was the very breath in her body and light in her _soul_. 

Darcy gasped into his mouth when his erection slid along the thin cotton of her yoga pants and dragged along her slit, and she was fucking _keening_ and it was goddamned _brilliant_ because he was rocking just right and catching each and every whine with his own groans, his tongue clashing and sliding with hers. As her head started to spin and she started to literally _writhe_ beneath him she chased her desire with a tightening down to her damn _toes_. 

In a blink she felt him pull her tight to his chest, and as she wrapped her legs around his waist and cradled him between her thighs he straightened up and stood, turning without a backward glance and without a break in their kiss as he carried her into the locker room. 

Fuck _yes_.

~*~

For the first time in years, Natalia felt her composure crack, and she knew a blush had slipped through the fissure to heat her cheeks uncomfortably.

All thoughts on the highly coveted bowl of popcorn were entirely forgotten as she watched with growing arousal where her friends were tangled on the floor. Stealing a few glances to the sides she noticed with a smirk that the gentlemen with her were not exactly innocent, either.

Steve looked as though he were watching his parents do the deed right there on the living room floor.

Sam had the expression of wanting to look away while simultaneously not wanting to miss a moment.

Tony was _enthralled_. Actually, she was surprised with that. She would have assumed he’d be avidly filming with his phone for later. Perhaps he'd already assumed Jarvis was doing so.

Bruce watched with mortified intrigue, a sweet bashful expression warring with the hunger she saw lighting up under those silly glasses tilting just slightly to the left. He flicked his gaze down to hers for just a second, just long enough to give her a heated look and a wink.

Promises for later, which warmed her in a way that had nothing to do with voyeuristically watching their friends lose themselves in the middle of the gymnasium floor.

As she watched Sergeant Barnes pick Darcy up like she was light as a feather, her body wrapped around him in a tight embrace, Natalia thought with a wistful sigh how nice it must be to be so consumed by the other person you completely forget anything and everything else. She felt a gentle nudge on her left shoulder, and when she tilted her head she felt her smirk spread into a full grin in answer to Bruce’s sparkling eyes and small smile. 

She wasn’t sure what was growing between her and the big guy, but if his smile was any indication, at least she knew she wasn’t alone on the ride.

It was surprisingly... _nice_. To know there was a lot more than hot sex between them. 

“Who do we call the winner?” Sam asked with amusement, snickering as he saw Natasha and Bruce both shake themselves out of a daze while Steve’s jaw snapped shut. 

Steve stuttered, flustered and at a loss for words, until he finally released a heavy sigh. “Postpone until round two?” 

“I’m certainly not going to go interrupt them,” she teased, eyes twinkling before she wrapped her arm around Bruce’s and turned, leading him towards the elevator. 

When a loud moan floated out from the locker room and into the training area, Natalia called over her shoulder to the bright red super soldier, the stunned-silent billionaire, and the smirking newest member of their band of misfits. “Care to join us for a late lunch, gentlemen?” 

A deep answering groan from the locker room had said gentlemen scurrying towards the elevator, varying shades of red lighting their faces.

~*~

Bucky turned and slammed her into the wall of the locker room as soon as he’d kicked the door shut, grinding his body into hers as he devoured her mouth with his own. Darcy was panting hard, pressing her chest against him as she clawed at his back, whining and desperate for friction.

She needed _more_ and she needed it _now_.

He must have felt the same, because with a great shudder of his shoulders she felt him tear her yoga pants clear in half, ripping them off until all that was left was the lace of her thong. He hooked a finger through, and she moaned loudly as she felt it slide against her slickness as he took hold of her soaked panties. He raised his head, eyes blinking heavily with lust as he tugged the panties lightly in question. 

_Yes_. 

Sweet, sweet Frigga, fucking _yes_. 

Darcy whined and thrust her pelvis forward, eyes rolling back on another moan as she felt the lace tear between her thighs, and then with a slight jerk he was pushing his erection deep inside her, slamming her against the walland claiming her in one smooth motion. 

That’s how she felt, when it came down to it.

She felt _claimed_. 

She felt _wanted_ and _cherished_ and all that sweet shit, but it was so much more than that, too.

She felt like she was the answer to a question he hadn’t asked, the gift from a prayer he’d never said. 

Fuck, much as it warred with her sense of feminine justice and self-pride, she felt _owned_. 

And she fucking _loved_ it. She loved that shit like she loved bubble baths paired with giant bottles of pink Moscato; like she loved peanut butter M &Ms on her pillow every night; like she loved pillow forts and stakeouts with pixie sticks and homemade hot chocolate.

Darcy moaned at the feel of him, full and hot, pulsing inside her, and his answering groan had her legs starting to shake where she’d wrapped them around his waist. 

He plunged into her with short, hard slaps of his hips, rolling them slightly as he felt her starting to tighten around him. She panted and moaned into his neck, arms and legs wrapped around him to hold him close, and just let herself _feel_ it, whatever _it_ was, some indefinable thing, as it built between them and up and up and up until she felt high as a fucking kite, riding a wave of pleasure so strong she thought she might _die_ from the crash. She was close, so close, wound tighter, tighter, _tighter_ , but still not _there_ where she _needed to be_ even as her legs shook and her body forgot to _breathe_. 

Just when she thought she couldn’t take it another second he brought his metal hand down from the wall and slipped it between where they were joined, one finger trailing down to circle her clit. 

Darcy came apart on a literal scream. It burst out of her, everything snapping all at once, until she was screaming his name, nails clawing through his shirt as her walls shuddered and clenched around him, milking him to his release until he came with a roar and collapsed into her, crushing her into the wall. 

She shivered and held on to him, her forehead tucked into his neck as they both sought to steady their breathing. 

It was so much, too much, way too much and not enough at the same time and she was overwhelmed almost to the point of tears. Sure, they’d said the _I think I’m falling in love with you_ jazz just last night even, and it was true and scary but yet not enough and she didn’t know what this feeling was but she was certain she needed it more than she needed air or coffee to survive. 

So she breathed. 

On and on and on, she breathed, until their breathing was synced and the aching need settled from a rolling boil to a simmer. Until her heart settled back into her chest from wherever it had gone when joined with him. 

One beats, two, three, four. She breathed, until she was ready, and pulled her head back to smile slyly up at him. 

She knew without a doubt he couldn’t control his answering grin even if he wanted to. He quirked an eyebrow in question. “Yes, doll?”

Darcy shrugged casually, still wrapped snuggly around his torso, before a little glimmer came into her eyes. “I was just thinking maybe I could use a shower, and maybe you could, too?”

His smile was positively wolfish as he caught her plump bottom lip between his teeth and gave her a playful growl, before turning to carry her back towards the showers.

~*~

Darcy was sprawled on their couch, her feet in Sergeant Sexy’s lap as she chowed down on Chinese takeout and watched him scroll through her movie recommendations for the evening. They were having a date night in, which to be honest, was Darcy’s favorite kind of date anyways. 

“Ehhh, I don’t think I’d go with that one, big guy,” she said, poking him in the arm with her chopsticks as he read the synopsis for _Hacksaw Ridge_.

“Now that you mention it, doll, that could be a little triggering,” he said with a snort, skipping down further on the list of movies. 

As much as Darcy loved stakeouts and pillow forts, she was kind of feeling like she’d rather this date stay more along the ‘have all the sex’ track it was currently on.

“How about this?” He asked as she munched on a dumpling. 

_Rocky I._

Oh, hell to the god damned yes.

“Abso-fucking-lutely! Cue it up, dude. Pass me that sesame chicken while you’re at it. You’re being stingy with the sharing.”

He grinned and swapped her for the dumplings. “Yeah well, gotta get in what I can before my girl eats the rest.”

She was fucking proud she kicked him hard enough for him to actually grunt.

~*~

As the credits rolled she sat up and stretched, cracking her neck and twisting her back. “So, what did you think?”

It wasn’t exactly a heavy movie, so she wasn’t quite prepared for the hesitant, guarded look coming her way. She watched the lines of his throat as he swallowed.

“Uh, it was good, doll, but kinda got me thinking.”

Given the Rocky series wasn’t generally known for inspiring deep thought, she felt herself frown. “Okay…”

He cleared his throat and watched her out of the corner of his eye while starting _Rocky II_. Apparently this was a movie-marathon kind of night. 

She was mildly concerned she was reaching the age where by the time the next movie was done she'd be too sleepy for sex. Now wasn't that a terrifying thought.

“What do you think about us getting a dog?”

Um, what?

Be still her beating heart, was this real life?

Was this a real question?

“ _Yes_ , Barnesadoodle, are you fucking kidding me? Hell to the fucking yes we are getting a dog. We can get a whole gaggle of dogs if that want you want, Buckaroo. A million. Fuck, we can run a shelter out of Tony Stark’s _lobby_. Ten million dogs. _All_ the dogs.”

He was laughing loudly and held his hands up in surrender to cut her off. “Okay, doll, well good. Great, then. You don't think Stark will mind?”

Darcy cut him a glare. How _dare_ he forget with whom he was speaking. Who he was speaking to? With whom to speaking he was?”

She needed more potstickers.

“If you think for one hot minute I can’t finagle a dog out of Tony Stark in the name of your rehabilitation plan you can just sleep on the couch tonight, dude.”

He laughed as she pulled out her Stark pad and plucked out an all-hands-on-deck team meeting for tomorrow morning.

_You don't think Stark will mind?_ Puh- _lease_. 

They were getting a dog.

They were getting _all the dogs_ if that’s what he wanted.

She knew just the person to get on board first to make it happen, and his response was nearly immediate.

**Sam-I-Am: Count me in, gurl. It will give him some responsibility and increase his sense of control. What do we need to do to make this happen?**

**Queen-Darcy: You leave that to me, bro. I’ve got this shit covered.**

Twenty seconds after that, she set the best mind in the world on task to recon potential shelters for tomorrow.

**I’m-The-Black-Widow-Bitch: Any particular dog in mind?**

**Queen-Darcy: Noppers. I wanna let him pick but I wanna make sure it’s a safe space and kinda make it a team outing sort of thing.**

**I’m-The-Black-Widow-Bitch: Copy. Hawk and I will have a plan in place by 09:00. Do not think this absolves you from our morning run. I will see you at 06:30.**

**Queen-Darcy: But if we wait until later couldn’t we bring the pup with us? Eh? Eh?**

**I’m-The-Black-Widow-Bitch: … I suppose. Tomorrow afternoon, 15:00. No excuses.**

**Queen-Darcy: Scout’s honor. Cross my heart and hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye.**

**I’m-The-Black-Widow-Bitch: I will.**

**Queen-Darcy: Now you’re just being scary for shits and giggles.**

**I’m-The-Black-Widow-Bitch: I hope for your sake you don’t find out.**


	16. Chapter 16

“What do you people not understand about no pets in the Tower?” Tony whined from the floor of the lab, hair sticking up in a thousand directions and grease stains over every inch of his skin and overalls.

Poor Sergeant Sexy looked like he was about to cry, and Darcy wasn’t having any of that.

None. At. All.

“But Tony, surely-“ 

“No, Pepper, absolutely not. I can’t believe they roped you into this,” he grumbled, banging his wrench into the side of some metal contraption he was working on.

“C’mon Stark, even Sam agreed it could help with Bucky’s-“

“ _No_. For the last time. Tony doesn’t do pets, and he doesn’t do kids. It’s that simple, folks.”

“A snake might be nice,” Bruce mused with a wry grin.

Tony pointed the wrench in Bruce’s direction with a narrowed gaze. “How dare you side with them. I am your _best friend_.”

Bruce just snorted and shook his head, curls bouncing as Natasha patted him on the shoulder. 

“Tony, for real-“

“ _No_ , Darcy. No. No no no no no no no-“

Natasha cleared her throat. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Us all to be a team?”

Tony narrowed his eyes in suspicion, “I don’t like where this is going.”

Natasha just shrugged. “Well, here we are. United as a team. Telling you we want a few therapy animals.”

“A _few_? All Darcy said was one dog and now you want a _few_?”

“What’s the name of the Tower, Tony?” Darcy cut in, biting back a smirk. 

His eyes were narrowed to slits by this point as Pepper started to chuckle.

“ _No_.”

“Is it Stark Tower, or _Avengers_ Tower, Tony?” Darcy asked with a grin.

“That is not the point,” he whined.

Pepper clapped her hands and gestured towards the door. “Come on, _team_. Let’s go get some puppies!”

“I have never in my life felt so betrayed,” Tony groaned.

Pepper just cut him a smile and blew him a kiss. “I’ll be sure to bring you home the cutest little kitten you’ve ever seen.”

The wrench clanged to the floor with a decided bang.

“You wouldn’t dare. At least make it a lion or a tiger or something.”

Darcy cackled as Pepper shot him a wink. “Whatever you say, dear. You’re the boss.”

As they all filed out towards the hallway Darcy heard Tony muttering to himself as he went back to banging his hulk of metal, “that’s right I’m the boss. I’m the fucking boss but my Tower is about to be invaded with messy, sloppy, disgusting pets.”

“You sure this is okay, Darce?” Bucky whispered into her ear.

Darcy just tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and tugged him along with a wide smile. “Come along, big guy. Let’s go get you a dog.”

~*~

The shelter Natasha and Clint had chosen was packed to the brim with displaced animals just shipped in after a recent hurricane down south. The poor dears looked so miserable it just about broke Darcy’s heart. 

She walked down the aisle looking at pen after pen filled with puppies, kittens, bunnies, hell even the poor gerbils looked like they needed new homes.

How were they ever going to take home less than _all_ of them?

She peaked into one of the waiting rooms where Natasha had a line of the fluffiest little dogs she’d ever seen, all in a row, sitting silently with wagging tails and lolling tongues as she spoke calmly to them in Russian. There were well over ten of them, Pomeranians, Maltese mixes, she even had a little Eskimo pup in there, while Bruce sat in a chair with, what was frankly the ugliest, mangiest Chihuahua Darcy had ever seen.

“Which one you thinkin’, Tasha?” Darcy heard Bruce ask, not once looking up from the pup nipping at his fingers. 

Darcy stifled a giggle at the appraising glance Natasha gave him. “All of them,” she said calmly.

Bruce’s eyes popped open wide and he glanced down at the, _good grief there were fifteen,_ dogs sitting on the ground. “ _All_ of them?” 

Natasha shrugged and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Including yours.”

Bruce’s smile was damn near blinding. 

After a quick glance in the direction of Cappy and Sam who were playing with a family of bulldogs, Darcy realized she hadn’t actually seen the Barnesadoodle in quite a while.

~*~

He hadn’t really had much in mind when he asked Darcy for a dog the night before, he just knew he needed one. From what he could recall he hadn’t had one growing up, but after seeing the way that Rocky guy and his dog were with each other thick and thin, he was thinking a dog was the perfect addition to his and Darcy’s home.

_Which_ dog was becoming more of a challenge than he’d realized.

At first he thought he wanted something large and intimidating, like the German Shepherds he recalled occasionally running missions with when he was in Hydra.

Until he decided the last thing he wanted to see every day was a reminder of Hydra.

He had plenty of those as it was already.

_Then_ he thought maybe he’d get a dog like what Rocky had. Until he saw Sam and Stevie round them all up and claim them all. 

He’d considered one of the little soft ones, until he watched a whole fucking line of them following Natasha around like little ducklings. 

Just as he was about to leave the decision up to Darcy, he came across the saddest pair of eyes he’d ever seen.

They were large, and brown, and just blinked sadly at him from the back of the last stall. He took one look and knew right then and there, _that_ was his dog.

Just as he’d reached out his hand for a sniff, his dog whined and nodded in the direction of the other corner of the cage.

_Ah._

His dog had a lady.

Bucky smiled wide as he scratched his dog behind the ears. “That’s no problem, bud. She can come too. I think my girl will love her.”

Ten minutes later, he heard Darcy giggling from the front of the cage, but he couldn’t see her because he was buried under two adult beagles as they loved him more than just about anything had in his whole life. 

“We’re getting them both, I take it?” He heard her laugh.

Bucky opened his mouth and crooned to the pups, “why yes we are. Aren’t we? You’re both coming home with us, aren’t you? Who’s a good doggie, are you? Are you?”

Dog kisses rated right up there with kisses from Darcy as his favorites.

~*~

“My new dogs bayed, like full on beagle _bayed_ , all goddamned night,” Darcy moaned into her margarita the next night. She was in Tony’s penthouse having taco Tuesday with Pepper and Natasha.

The first unofficial gathering of the sisterhood. _Yes!_

Natasha raised a brow, “if you trained them, this would not be a problem. Simply make them aware of the behavior you expect.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and reached out to scratch behind the ears of one of Pepper’s new kittens. “I tried. I also tried to tell them that they had to sleep in their beds in the living room, and do you know what happened?”

Pepper giggled and opened up the containers of pupusas and tacos they’d ordered from an El Salvadorian restaurant down the street. “You got suckered in by their pitiful round eyes?”

“I wish,” Darcy groaned. “I got suckered in by _Bucky’s_ pitiful round eyes. Those baby blues are dangerous.”

Even Natasha smiled as she dug into the chips and fresh guacamole. “There, I cannot help you.”

Darcy piled her plate high with every single item they’d ordered, snatched up her margarita, and made her way towards where Pepper had perched on the floor around the coffee table. 

“So what ended up happening?” Pepper mumbled through a mouth full of food.

This was a side of Pepper Potts that Darcy was fucking amped to see. A loose, relaxed, not a care in the world side that was fucking _fun_.

“I caved, of course, which meant that all _four_ of us ended up camped out in the living room and any time I tried to sneak back to my room Baskin started howling like his damn life depended on it.”

“What’s the other one’s name, again?”

Darcy’s smile was wolfish around her mouth of pupusas. “Robbin, naturally.”

Pepper snorted as Natasha grinned. “Only you would name your dogs after your favorite ice cream brand.”

Darcy just shrugged and dug into her guacamole. “Hey, he got to pick the dogs, I got to pick the names.”

Jarvis’ voice cut in overhead. “Darcy, Sergeant Barnes is requesting your assistance. Apparently Baskin has yet to cease whining at the door since you left, and now Robbin is too sad to eat her dinner.”

“OH MY GOD,” Darcy yelled as Pepper broke into a giggle. “Just what does _Sergeant Barnes_ expect me to do about it?”

Jarvis was silent a moment before responding. “He wonders if perhaps if he gave them each another bone, they would move past their sadness.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Those would the be fourth bones today, Jarvis. _Today_!”

Darcy tossed back what was left of her margarita as Natasha began to lecture her on proper dog nutrition, until Jarvis cut in once again a few minutes later. “Excellent news, Darcy. Sergeant Barnes says the bones worked well, and you should be able to stay longer without needing to tend to the animals.”

“Now I see why Tony said no pets,” Darcy grumbled, as even Natasha started to laugh.

~*~

Two afternoons later they were gathered in the common room looking over the whiteboard with Bucky’s list. They were more pet than people at this point, and there were twice as many dog beds as chairs. 

Tony looked like he was going to be sick.

It most certainly did not escape Darcy’s notice, however, that something kept mewling every once in awhile from the pocket of Tony’s jacket.

“Well, I think we can check the bottom row off just about completely based on what we’ve heard,” Bruce drawled pointedly, nudging Natasha with a grin.

Darcy turned bright red as she read _Sex Positions_ as the topic. 

“Woah woah woah, isn’t part of the fun knowing what Mr. Super Soldier has decided is his favorite? What d’ya say? Reverse cowgirl? Doggy style?” Tony lowered his voice conspiratorially to a loud whisper with a wink, “something kinkier?” 

Darcy was pretty sure she was glowing right now, and opted to pretend she wasn’t paying attention as she scratched Baskin’s belly. 

“Actually, now that you mention it-“

“James Buchanan Barnes!” She screamed, rounding on him as he started to chuckle and grinned wolfishly down at her. 

“-I think I’d have to go with-“

“NOTHING. You will go with _nothing_ , Sergeant Barnes, if you want to ‘go’ ever again!” Darcy laughed and flipped him the bird before she made her way over to the whiteboard.

“Now! What do you want to tackle off the list today, big guy?” 

Bucky’s grin was positively sinful, Darcy decided. “Tackling, now that’s an interesting thought,” he mused, bringing his metal hand up to stroke his chin in thought. 

“No no no, Super Soldier. We’ve seen what tackling leads to and we’ve had about enough of that lately,” Natasha teased, raising her eyebrows primly as she fought back a smirk. 

Darcy was going to kill them all.

Bucky scanned the list before his eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers. His eyes were twinkling and he was full-on grinning as he started to head towards the door.

“Care to share with the rest of us, Barnes?” Tony drawled lazily, kicking off the floor to spin his office chair in a circle.

Throwing a glance over his shoulder as he pushed open the door, he turned fully and held it wide, gesturing with his arm for them to join him. “Cars,” he said simply, all the excitement of a teenage boy vibrant in his deep voice.

“Cars!” Tony was out of his seat in a flash, heading towards the door with a little dance in his step. “We’ve got sports cars, motorcycles, hotrods.” 

He continued his list as Steve and Bruce bolted up and headed towards the door after them. In the blink of an eye, Darcy was left alone with Natasha.

And just about thirty dogs.

Couldn’t forget the damn _dogs_.

Darcy huffed in annoyance, rolling her eyes as she turned a smile on Natasha. “It appears they are having a boys day. What, oh what, will we do with ourselves?” 

A voice called back from the door, rumbling with amusement while his eyes twinkled with affection. “Spa day, my treat, ladies. I’ll pick you up for dinner in my new ‘whip’ as Tony calls it, at nineteen-hundred sharp, doll.” 

With a delicious wink, he was gone. 

Darcy reached out to twist her arm through Natasha’s and tug her towards the door. “Um, hello! He said spa day his treat! What are we waiting for?!” 

~*~

Wrapped in fluffy robes and reclining as they got pedicures, Natasha twirled her glass of wine in Darcy’s direction, not bothering to even open her eyes. “Okay, spill.”

Darcy snorted, sighing as she felt the training pains in her foot start to ease from the massage. “Spill?”

Natasha sat up and leaned over, peering at Darcy with narrowed eyes and a playful frown while she gestured towards her with her nearly empty glass of wine. “Don’t play coy with me.”

Darcy felt the blush that was becoming her permanent fucking accessory once again slip up over her neck to stain her cheeks pink. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” she replied primly, holding back a giggle as she took another sip of wine. 

“Well then it’s a good thing I’m not asking you about his kisses,” Natasha teased, smirking as she rolled her eyes. “Come on, give me something juicy! Size, stamina, something!” 

Darcy huffed out a laugh. “Honestly? He’s like, literally every single fantasy I’ve ever had and ones I never knew I had, all rolled into one.”

Natasha smiled broadly, sighing as she settled back in her chair. “True love. Must be nice,” she teased, chuckling a bit as Darcy reached out blindly to swat her arm. 

“That’s the thing,” Darcy continued shyly. “It’s so much more than this bond thing, or the sex, or any of that. I am hopelessly, Danny and Sandy in love with him.” Darcy groaned as she took another sip of wine, shaking her head in defeat. “I just keep wondering, where is this going? Like, obviously we are basically stuck with each other because of the bond, but what does he really want that to look like? What do I want that to look like?”

“Well,” Natasha prompted, a bemused expression settling over her face, “how would you feel if you saw him with someone else?”

A murderous expression crossed over Darcy’s face, and she felt her phone start to ring a few seconds more as she answered, “beyond fucking furious.”

Darcy generously chose to ignore Natasha’s cocky smile as she picked up the phone. “Yes, big guy, everything’s fine. No, I’m not really angry. Don’t worry about it. No, I’m not going to tell you what made me mad. Thank you, have fun, kiss kiss hug hug good _bye_ Barnesadoodle.”

“I think you have your answer,” Natasha said mildly as Darcy hung up the phone and settled back into her chair. 

“Alright, alright, enough about me. Tell me what’s going on with you and Bruce? Is that a thing? I mean, clearly, it’s a thing. But what _kind_ of thing?”

Natasha’s smile was a little pained as she polished off her glass of wine and gestured to the attendant for another. “Trust me, if I knew, you’d be next to know.”

~*~

Several hours later Darcy slipped out into the cool night in a short flowing dark blue dress and a pair of strappy silver heels, scanning the street for her escort for the evening. She sighed and rolled her eyes as she saw all the cars lining the street and wondered which one, if any, was Bucky Barnes’s new “whip” as he called it. 

He was so damn cute it wasn’t fair, trying to integrate modern phrases with his old school slang.

The revving of a motorcycle engine down the street had her glancing in annoyance before she turned back, and she heard the doors open behind her and her friends stumble out onto the sidewalk. 

“Cute dress,” Tony noted, an odd look in his eyes. Darcy glanced at Natasha who only shrugged. 

“Thanks?” Darcy said tentatively, noting the broad grins on the other boys’ faces. 

The motorcycle revved again, rolling out into the street and pulling up to stop on the curb in front of their group. 

“You’ll have to sit just right if you don’t want to give everyone a show, you know,” Tony said casually, smirking as Bruce and Steve smothered snickers. 

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

Darcy turned around fully, narrowing her eyes as she looked at each one in turn. They each had varying degrees of boyish grins, and combined with the pointed glances they kept shooting over her shoulder, they basically told her all she needed to know.

No.

Nopity nope nope _nope_.

Darcy narrowed her eyes and slowly turned back around to see the man on the motorcycle pull off his helmet. 

Bucky’s newly-trimmed dark hair flowed out behind him, catching on the breeze as he smiled sexily to her and nodded towards the bike. “What do you think, doll?”

_No._

Darcy’s jaw dropped and she started to back away slowly as she looked over the bike. It was all black with chrome accents, the gears were visible and sparkling, and the engine of the bike was molded into the frame. In his black jeans and black leather jacket, eyes twinkling as he straddled the bike, he looked positively sinful, and Darcy tried to keep the sharp tug of desire at bay as she backed away further, bumping into Cappy behind her. 

Bucky held out his hand with a wolfish grin, the leather glove flexing as he wiggled his fingers. “So how about it, Darcy doll? Care to go for a ride?”

Fuck _no_.

Darcy shook her head frantically, grimacing nervously as she felt Steve start to steer her forwards. “I don’t know about this, Bucky. A _motorcycle_? I’ve never ridden in my life. I mean, aren’t they dangerous? You could get hurt! Did you have to get a motorcycle? Why not a nice SUV. Or maybe a Volvo?” 

Darcy never realized she was such a wimp, but she was far too into the _no_ of it all to care.

_No_.

Her eyes widened with alarm as she realized that during her babbling fucking Cappy had led her straight into fucking Bucky’s waiting arms. He took hold of her hand and tugged her close until she was leaning over the bike and her eyes were inches from his. “It’s a little late to worry about danger, don’t you think, cupcake?” He teased wryly, smirking knowingly at her as she bit her lip and smiled. “Do you trust me, beautiful girl?”

Darcy just sighed.

That wasn’t a fair question, and that delicious bastard knew it.

When she remained silent and glared at him he raised his eyebrow to prompt her.

Darcy huffed and nodded, rolling her eyes before sighing resignedly as he pulled her in for a quick kiss. “I trust you,” she mumbled.

“Then get on the bike, Darcy doll, and let me take you for a ride,” the sultry tone in his voice had her cheeks flushing furiously as he handed her a helmet and held her hand while she settled onto the back of the bike behind him, pressing her legs in tight and tucking the skirt of her dress in between them. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled up closer as he kicked the bike and revved the engine, turning slightly to yell over the noise. “Hang on,” he yelled, and just as she tightened her grip, he sped off from the curb and into the night.

Darcy was giggling furiously, laughter bubbling up between them and spilling out into the night air as he road as fast as the city streets would take him, careening in and out of traffic as free as the wind. 

It was part exhilaration, _mostly_ fear, but still. Even she could admit that either way she was having the time of her life, because _he_ clearly was. 

Bucky coasted to a stop in front of an old time pizza shop in the heart of Brooklyn, the scent of fresh tomato sauce, home grown basil and fresh made mozzarella making her mouth water deliciously. He took off his helmet and shook off his hair as she did the same, before she swung her leg over the seat and he pushed up to stand next to her. 

Ever the gentleman, he held out his arm to escort her in, leading them up to the bar. 

There were pictures from throughout the decades lining every wall in the restaurant, everyone from bikers to presidents to neighborhood regulars, and Darcy’s eyes darted everywhere and nowhere in wonder frantically as she took it all in. “What _is_ this place?” She asked softly, still spinning around in her seat in a daze as he ordered them each a drink.

“The family pizza joint, doll,” he said with a smile, eyes twinkling as he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Darcy giggled, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Come on, Buckaroo. Seriously, where are we?”

He slid on his barstool closer until they were pressed up together, knee to hip and elbow to shoulder. He leaned over while she scanned the menu, his brown hair sliding forward to tickle her cheek as he whispered into her ear. “Seriously, doll. One of my cousins bought the building and opened up shop about a week before I shipped out.”

Darcy’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened in amazement as she turned her head to study Bucky over her shoulder. He gave a rueful shrug as he turned his head and leaned forward to thank the bartender for his beer and her glass of wine. He caught her hand as he wrapped it around the stem of the glass, his metal thumb tracing delicately over the white tips of her French manicure. “I came here every day until we left.” He sighed heavily, eyes scanning over the restaurant before turning back to the delicate whites on her nails, before the flicked up mischievously to study her face. “Now, as we eat our pizza I get to contemplate my reward.”

Darcy chuckled. Much as she wanted to press him a bit, she decided to listen to Sam and follow his lead as he steered the conversation onward. Darcy leaned over to plant a soft kiss to his cheek. “What reward is that, big guy?” 

He pulled a face and held her hand to his heart before breaking once more into a grin. “You wound me, doll. I had a memory. _Obviously_ I deserve a reward.” 

Darcy couldn’t help but giggle as she turned back to study the menu. “Alright, alright. You order us a pizza that has fresh banana peppers and you’ve got yourself a deal.” 

The wink he shot her as he turned to hand the bartender the menus and place their order had her blushing into the glass of her white wine. 

~*~

Several hours later, Darcy was stuffed to the brim but still couldn’t help but eye the last slice of their pizza.”

Bucky just laughed as he paid the bill and took her hand, tugging her up from her seat. “You know if you eat that you’ll regret it later, princess.”

Darcy couldn’t help but whisper goodbye to the best pizza she’d ever had in her life. Leaving that poor little slice behind made her just about as sad as she’d been leaving Baskin and Robbin with Natasha and Bruce for the evening.

Bucky led her to the bike and arranged her on the back, tucking her helmet on over her head. “Now hang on tight, Darcy doll. Wouldn’t want to leave you in the streets of Brooklyn to fend for yourself.” As he revved the engine and took off full throttle once more, Darcy couldn’t help but shake her head as she lurched forward and gripped him tighter around the waist. 

_Please_ let him stop starting the bike like that, at least.

~*~

As Bucky pulled to a stop and cut the engine on the top of a parking garage overlooking the river, Darcy couldn’t help but stare at the city sparkling out before them. Ships were passing in the harbor, cutting through the ink black water. Lights from the sky rises twinkled against the jet black sky, creating an almost bluish haze as the city sprawled out behind it. 

Two strong hands, one metal one flesh, wound around Darcy’s wrists, pulling her directly into the air and forward until with a giggled shriek she landed in James’ lap on the front of the bike. 

“James Buchanan Barnes!” She yelped in surprise.

She was never going to get used to his ridiculous level of strength, Darcy was sure of it. The fact that she hadn’t landed flat on her face or her ass when he literally _lifted her from her seat and over his head_ was a feat beyond her comprehension.

Darcy started to laugh as he tickled her sides until she broke off into a breathy moan as he wrapped those hands around the inside of each of her thighs, spreading her legs wide until she was sprawled across his lap, her back pressed tightly to his chest.   
“What are you-“ she trailed off in a sigh when he started to lick a trail from the top of her neck down to the crease of her shoulder. “Bucky,” she breathed, as his hands started to tease feather light strokes up and down the tops and insides of her thighs, pushing her dress up inch by inch and then sliding back down. He continued his licks and kisses until she started to shift and squirm to gain traction in his lap, one of her hands coming around to lock behind his neck and twine into his hair while the other sunk into his strong muscular thigh. 

“Hmmm?” He hummed in question into her ear, teasing, licking, nipping the lobe until she felt the wetness in her core start to drip down and soak through the thin lace panties she’d worn. 

“What are— _ahhhh_ —what are we— _ohhhh_ ,” his fingers were teasing now, slipping up under the skirt of her dress to trace the lining of her lace thong before skimming back down to softly pinch the thicker flesh of her thighs. 

His rumble of laughter vibrated straight through her back and sent another jolt of heat down to pool between her legs. “Isn’t it obvious, Darcy doll? I’m claiming my reward.” 

“I don’t know if we should- _ohhh_.”

One long flesh finger slipped under the lace to tease the lips of her opening. 

_Fuck it._

He groaned into her ear as his finger came back out slick, coated completely with the wetness starting to drip between her thighs. “So wet for me, doll,” he groaned, nipping her pulse point while his a second finger joined the first, teasing her lips open and finding her clit. 

He folded his fingers into a V and spread her lips wide, and Darcy couldn’t help but buck her hips and bite back a moan as his fingers sliding down the sides and oh so close but never quite touching where she was on _fire_ with need. Her legs started to shake over his and her back arched sharply as she desperately bucked forward and bit back a whine of need. 

“I know doll, I know,” he rumbled into her ear. “Shhhh, I’m going to take care of you, pretty girl.” 

Then his fingers were pressing together, pinching her clit lightly between them before his thumb joined while they slipped lower to tease her opening, and Darcy thought she just might _die_. Shivers danced over her skin and her belly clenched tight as his thumb began to trace circles over her clit, making her legs shake harder. Darcy felt her breath come short while his metal hand dug almost painfully into her thigh. 

Just as she was on the edge about to plummet over, those teasing fingers receded, and she was left panting and moaning and shifting in dismay, gripping his thigh hard and yanking on his hair as he chuckled and reached down between them to unbuckle his jeans. 

How fucking _dare_ he wind her up and leave her right there on the edge, close, so _close_ but not _there_ and she was _dying_ and she as she tugged on his hair with a whine he chuckled into her ear. “Patience, my Darcy girl. You’re going to come, but you’re going to come all over _me_ , doll, all over me while you’re all spread open on my lap.” 

Oh, _yes_. 

_Fuck_ yes. 

Darcy bit back a loud moan as he whispered into her ear, and just as she started to shift again he lifted her hips up, quickly pushing her lace panties to the side, and then shoved her back down hard as he thrust up into her, impaling her in a hiss. 

“ _Fuck_ Darce,” he moaned into her ear as she arched her back further and started to ride him in his lap, her walls clenching down to grip him like a glove as he thrust up into her harder and harder. 

There was something so dirty about fucking right there on the back of his bike, where anyone passing by in the harbor could see them, and Darcy fucking _loved_ it.

She was moaning with abandon, biting her lip with her head tossed back against his shoulder as her legs began to shake once more. “ _Please_ , Bucky,” she begged, tilting her head back to slide her cheek against his. 

His chuckle choked off into a groan as she slammed down onto him harder, clenching and pulling him tight, desperate for release. She was so _close_ but just not _there_ until finally his hand slid between her legs once more, his fingers circling fast around her clit while he thrust up into her with abandon. “Come on, Darcy, come for me, fall apart all over me,” he growled into her ear. 

And she was, _oh_ she was, she was coming so hard she was fucking _flying_ , up over the city, her scream echoing until it was swallowed up by the traffic below as her walls clamped down on him and he came with a growl, moaning her name into her shoulder. 

Darcy sighed heavily as he gently released both of her legs and wrapped his strong arms around her, holding her tight as they watched a million people rush by below. Darcy fought to even _breathe_ because all of a sudden it was all overwhelming her, all the feelings, all the hopes, all the dreams, and she was high and low and confused and in love and every single fucking thing in between. 

He must have felt it, or felt something, because he tightened his hold and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Just breathe, Darce,” he whispered into her hair, nuzzling her neck.

She tried, one breath, two, three, until the breaths ticked by and she felt her heart come back into her chest.

He was silent for a moment before whispering into her shoulder, “are you happy, Darce?” He asked softly, voice so timid she was almost certain he feared her answer.

Darcy slid her hands over where his rested around her chest and waist, wrapping her arms tight around his own as she answered. “Happier than I’ve ever been in my life, and it scares the _fuck_ out of me” she said honestly, tilting her head to lean against his chin.

He hummed once more before placing a soft kiss on the top of her hair. “Me too, doll,” he whispered softly, “me too.”


End file.
